


SWORDS AND PACIFIERS

by erestor



Series: ACOTER [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Humor, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SAP picks up where ACOTER ended - the relationship between Erestor and Glorfindel shows an amazing result.… "Swords and Pacifiers" brings you all the clichés you know about pregnancy - from strange food cravings to mood swings - but also some flashbacks regarding Glorfindel's past. The Balrog slayer has a very sad secret…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While there is still a lot of humour in this story, "Swords and Pacifiers" has also a very serious and melancholic undertone. And there is angst. With this series, I began to really dig my teeth into halfway decent writing; SAP is a parallel story to the Magic Rat's "The Gift" and "Last Homely House" - we stuck to certain basic facts and knitted our own stories out of them. I can only recommend her writing, she is outstanding.
> 
> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

It was Friday, June 13, 11 pm, 3rd age, and officially the 444th day Glorfindel and I were together as in – together.

444 days of arguments, broken cutlery, sulking Balrog slayer and gravy on my precious 1st age scrolls.

444 days filled with lengthy discussions on the subjects of blanket hoarding, room decoration, vegetables being preferable to meat, dropping on the shared bedstead with muddy boots and the importance of sorting tunics by colour.

444 mornings of waking up in Fin's arms - and the 444 nights were even better.

In other words: the 444 best days of my life.

Had anybody told me two years ago that I would actually live to enjoy Fin's company, I would have laughed out loud. How times are a-changing … oh, we still had arguments, more than before we became lovers - for if you argue, you need to make up afterwards, and that is a skill Fin is a master in. I even started rows just to get Fin all worked up and into bed afterwards.

They do not call me "cunning advisor" without reason.

Nothing special had been planned for this day, though, as Glorfindel was not in Imladris. The forces of evil seemed to gain strength by the minute, Orcs had been sighted much too close to the Last Homely House for comfort, and so he had joined Elrond on a trip to the Northern borders to check on the guards and hear first hand what was going on. I did not complain, this was his duty, after all, but I was worried.

This was something I had to get used to first – caring for somebody so deeply. Nobody had ever been as close to me as Glorfindel, and the mere thought of losing him was unbearable. Fin drove me insane when he was around and he drove me insane when he was not, but at the end of the day, I preferred to go mad in his presence rather than in his absence.

Pushing dark thoughts of Orcs back to a dusty and rarely used part of my mind, I focused on the speech I had just written for Elrond.

I was very proud of it – it is tricky business to write speeches for Elrond without our fellow Elves noticing that he had not written them himself. I had quilled down a first draft, then added pompous sayings and a handful of doomed, doom and doooom for good measure, and now it really had the Elrond touch. I finished the last notes, sanded the parchment, and with that, my deeds were done for this day.

By now, I was hearing the sweet call of my pillow, and I was more than willing to answer it – I was very tired. No – exhausted. I had been feeling like this quite often lately, a condition Elrond blamed on too much work and Glorfindel on his prowess in the bedroom, and I had no intention of challenging either of them on their respective opinions.

I blew out the candle, and got up to undress, when a wave of nausea washed over me, and I fell, hitting my head on the chair in the process. By the Valar! What was going on here?

After lying on the floor without moving for a couple of minutes, I felt a little better, and sat up, rubbing my forehead. I was getting soft - Fin had been right: I have been spending too much time behind the desk. I was out of condition, a sad fact which not only showed itself in the weakness of my limbs, but also in my increased weight.

Slowly, I got up, and made my way to the bed. Once there, I nestled into the comforter, and grabbed Fin's nightshirt - I needed something of him around, otherwise I could not sleep. I hugged the shirt to my chest, and I decided that I would ask Elrohir on the morrow if he might fancy a round of sparring.

It was high time to let my inner warrior come out and play again.

* * *

Elrohir, as expected, was highly delighted with the idea, so we met up the next afternoon on the training ground near the Bruinen, armed with light swords. Elladan and some of the guardians sat in the grass, watching our fight. It went to and fro, and I had to admit that Glorfindel had been an excellent teacher to the twins.

As usual, thinking of Glorfindel, even in the most mundane of ways, let my thoughts wander off to his golden tresses spread over the pillow, the elegant line of his neck, the most exquisite feeling of his tongue on – ouch! I had not been paying attention, and Elrohir had attacked and out-manoeuvred my defence, resulting in a gash on my left side, which was bleeding quite nastily.

Elrohir dropped the weapon, and hugged me.

"Ai Elbereth – I am so sorry, Erestor! I had not planned to hurt you!"

"I know," I tried to calm him, "it is nothing serious. I have survived worse."

Which was true, but all the same, it hurt like Mordor, and that faint, weak feeling from the previous night returned, making my stomach clamp and my head spin.

"We must take you to the House of Healing", Elrohir said, and took one arm, while Elladan clutched onto my other, both of them leading me firmly away.

It was only when we entered the dark, cool room of the House of Healing that I remembered Elrond's absence.

Ai Elbereth - I was in the hands of Elladan the Butcher Boy!

* * *

"Elladan – and even if I should die: you will not put so much as a finger on me! Even the cows flee you, and they have good reason!"

Elrond's first born pouted, looking very much like his father that moment – from whom he had also inherited the eyebrows, the nose and the stubbornness.

Elrohir tried to calm me down.

"Erestor, please, stop being difficult. We only want to help. The wound is bleeding, and needs to be tended."

"Difficult? I am not being difficult! In fact I am far from being difficult! I am neither difficult nor suicidal, for if I were, I would submit myself to our quack here!" I shouted, and now Elladan was not only pouting, but frowning as well.

He cracked his knuckles, and stalked towards me, followed by Elrohir.

"Erestor, I will examine you now. There are two ways we can do this: I knock you out with a hammer and tie you to the bed, or you can be a good advisor, let me do my duty and possibly be unharmed by the end of the examination."

Elrohir nodded, and quipped: "Nobody escapes the Noldorian inquisition, dear Erestor!"

Ha. Ha.

Under normal circumstances, I would have put up a fight and most probably escaped, for despite all banter and joking, the twins respected me deeply, and if I had seriously refused an examination, Elladan would not have pushed it.

But I hurt, and I was tired, and my head was spinning again, so I decided to grin and bear it, and lay down on the bed, where Elrohir and Elladan quickly stripped me of my tunic.

Elladan went to one of the shelves, rummaged through the bottles and jars, and then returned, uncorking a bottle. He poured a nasty smelling fluid over the wound, which stung like Mordor, and then he announced:

"My, but this does look very ugly, Erestor, I am most afraid we will have to stitch you up."

Great. Could not wait.

While Elladan prepared everything he needed to do his grisly work, Elrohir tried to take my mind off his brother's clumsy hands, and asked:

"Erestor, this is a nasty looking scar you have here – did you get this in the battle of the Last Alliance?"

"No," I yelped, because right then, Elladan applied the first stitch, "Helm's Deep."

Elrohir whistled in appreciation, and I decided not to tell him that the scar in question had not come from an Orcish blade, but from a spring which had cut into my skin when Fin and I had celebrated his safe return a little too enthusiastically and the bed had collapsed.

The young ones do not need to know everything.

* * *

"So, we are finished," Elladan announced cheerfully, and clapped his hands. From the shine in his eyes and the rosy hue on his cheeks I could tell that he had enjoyed himself immensely, while I had spent the last twenty minutes in agony.

Looking down at my side, I examined Elladan's work.

Cross-stitches.

He had stitched me up with CROSS STITCHES!

"Have you gone insane, Elladan?" I cried, and he shrugged, looking hurt.

"I thought it would look pretty."

"And that is also the reason you used pink yarn, is it not!" I howled.

Elladan shook his head.

"No, but we are out of green."

I let myself fall back, and closed my eyes. This was decidedly not my day.

"Oh, that is strange."

I opened my eyes immediately. From Elladan's lips, these words could not mean anything good for me.

"What is strange?" I asked.

Elladan poked my tummy, then frowned.

"There is something wrong, I think. Did you hit him anywhere else, Elrohir?"

The younger twin shook his head.

"No, just the gash on the side."

"Hm. This is odd."

'Strange' had made me feel uncomfortable. Hearing now the term 'odd' had me in full panic mode.

"Elladan! For the Valar's sake, will you tell me what is wrong?"

He ran his hand over my belly, poked here and there, and then he cried out, taking a step back.

"Erestor! There is something in there!"

I groaned.

"Yes, of course, you genius master healer: liver, heart, kidneys …"

"No!" he interrupted me, horror on his face.

"It moves!"

Oh dear.

"Elladan. Nothing moves there. There is nothing. You are only nervous."

But Elladan would have none of this, grabbing my hand and pressing it on my abdomen.

"Here – feel for yourself!"

I rolled my eyes, but complied – and then I froze. It could not be denied – something moved.

No, correction.

Someone moved.

I starred at Elladan in complete, utter terror. When he finally regained his ability to talk again, he said:

"I hope Arwen has kept the cradle."

And ever since then, things have gone downhill.

* * *

Just in case you are not one of the Firstborn, I shall explain to you briefly the mechanics of the birds and the bees. To produce an Elfling, or, in some very rare cases, two of them, you need:

1 Elf (male)  
1 Elf (female)

Candles, starlight and a romantic dinner for two can help, but are not mandatory.

Elflings are conceived when the parents decide the time is right, to provide the best possible environment to bring the wee one up.

In other words: it is absolutely impossible for a male Elf to conceive. Or not to know about it. Not possible. Not.

The only case where this has ever happened that I know of is Rabbit – but then Rabbit is not an Elf in the common meaning of the word. He is – Rabbit.

I, however, am very much Elven, and very much male, as for that. MALE! This means the Valar love me, I can do what I want and bed whom I want without facing the consequences. What fun is there in being a male if you have to worry about unplanned offspring? I might as well become a mortal then!

What unspeakable crime, oh Elbereth, had I committed in a former life to deserve this fate. Here I was, sitting on my bed, all confused, while some boisterous embryo was most probably entertaining my liver with hackneyed stories about Balrogs and flirting with my kidneys at that very moment.

And how did said embryo get where it was in the first place?

And, even more important – how did said embryo intend to LEAVE my body?

No. Do not answer the last question. It was merely rhetorical.

I sighed. This was too odd for words. And the prospect of breaking this news to Glorfindel was nothing I was looking forward to. How would he react? Would he throw me out of our chambers? Jump out of the window? Drop dead on the spot?

Leave me?

Fear crawled up my spine, as unpleasant and clingy as night sweat. We had never talked about children – naturally assuming there was no need - and certainly, he had been a loyal friend and good teacher to Elladan and Elrohir, and always managed to make Arwen eat her steamed vegetables when she was an Elfling, but that was still a far cry from being a parent himself.

Or had he been a parent already? With five divorces to his name, surely there must have been some sons and daughters along the way? I had never asked.

Maybe he did not like children? Maybe he would be disgusted – after all, I seemed to be a freak of nature. Maybe … maybe he would not love me anymore?

He could leave anytime, as we were not bonded. And even if we were …

I raked my hair with my fingers. It felt awful – like straw. The ends were splitting, and looking in the mirror, I noticed dark circles under my eyes, a slightly greenish tint to my skin, my hair was not shiny anymore, and, it could not be denied, I had put on weight.

I was an undesirable, blobby abnormality, and Fin would not love me anymore, and it was all horrible, terrible, disastrous, abysmal, and now I really started to cry.

Pickled frog feet. Yes. That was what I needed now: pickled frog feet with freshly cut onions.

* * *

I wiped away my tears, called myself a fool and put on a robe, intending to make my way to the kitchen, hoping that the cook had stored somewhere a jar of the much craved delicacy.

Down in the kitchen, I rummaged through cupboards and shelves, but to no avail. Salted lizard tongue, dried Warg ham and steamed Mallorn blossoms I found, but not a single jar of pickled frog feet. Did the entire world hate me?

Now I seriously started to feel desperate.

I slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor and buried my face in my hands, sobbing like an Elfling – me, Erestor, chief advisor to Lord Elrond, once a great and much-feared warrior, and by reputation sly and cunning and not to be messed with.

It was a disgrace.

I was a disgrace.

"Here. Take this." a deep, rough voice said, and when I looked up, my bleary eyes took in the sight of Rabbit, offering me a jar of – FROG FEET!

My tears ceased immediately. I grabbed the jar, tore open the lid and fished out one piece of meat, stuffed it in my mouth unceremoniously, and felt much better already.

Rabbit sat down opposite me, his yellow eyes sparkling, and only now I did I realise how odd this was: Rabbit not only being in the house and visible, but talking to me – and he surely did not travel with jars of pickled frog feet all the time?

He watched me licking my fingers, taking in every little detail of my appearance, and at times, he sniffed the air, like an animal that caught track of something.

When I was munching on my third frog foot, he said: "You are with child."

It was not a question. It was a statement. I dropped the foot, and stared at him.

"How can you tell? I only just learned …"

Rabbit shook his head.

"I know. I can smell it."

He sniffed again.

"Your smell – it is different." And again: "You are with child."

His tone made clear that there was no point in arguing.

I sighed.

"Yes. Yes, I am. I have no idea how, I have no idea why, and the Valar know I did not want this, but …" I broke off, and felt the tears flow again.

Rabbit shook his head again.

"No tears. You are with child, and that is good. You are of my kin, so I will watch over you."

Kin? What was he talking about?

I looked into these strange, unelven yellow eyes again, and my great-grandmother's tale about her lost lover came back into my mind.

"He was a wild being," she had told us oh so many times, "with black hair and yellow eyes. Where he came from and where he went I never knew, but I loved him, and that was knowledge enough."

Could it be …? No. No, that was too weird to even consider. I shook my head.

As if he had read my thoughts (and I would not put such ability beyond him) Rabbit gave me the hint of a smile.

"No, we are not that close of kin. But still, we are of the same blood. Elves might think us less – but we are more."

Aha.

"And this 'more' involves males becoming pregnant without knowledge or desire to sire."

I was rhyming – bad sign.

Rabbit cocked his head.

"You do not wish to be with child?"

I gave a laugh which, I'm afraid, sounded rather hysterical.

"Do I not … Rabbit! I AM A 6537 YEAR OLD MALE! And a warrior – fine, more theoretically lately, but still – bearing children is about the most unmale thing one can do, beside needlework, that is, and I find children irritating at best and confusing mostly, and the thought of spending the next 50 years making sure Glorfindel junior will not get into any trouble is NOT my idea of fun!"

Rabbit got up.

"You will understand and accept in time." he said, and disappeared.

I had no idea where he went, but within the fraction of a second he was gone, and I sat there on the floor, clutching the jar of frog feet to my chest like my life depended on it, and I had never felt so alone in all my life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor breaks the news to Glorfindel, whose reaction is not quite what he expected…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

The following three days were relatively uneventful. I locked myself away and contemplated my fate, wallowed in self-pity and ate salted Warg tongues with chocolate sauce.

I had warned Elladan and Elrohir that I would cut their tongues off with a rusty dagger and pickle them with king's foil and vinegar if they should dare to tell anybody what had happened, and both swore an oath by all they held dear that their lips were sealed.

"I shall be silent as the grave", declared Elladan dramatically.

"Then your graveyard must be gossip central," Elrohir answered drily.

Ai Elbereth.

Every morning, I found a jar of pickled frog feet on the doorstep of my chamber, and I suspected Rabbit to be Ye Herald of Great Delicacies. Alas, I never saw him, for he rarely showed himself; so rarely, in fact, that in the beginning some of the guards had suspected Haldir to be hallucinating when he had talked about his mate, and only grudgingly admitted that Rabbit might exist when Bramble had been born.

For such is the nature of Elves: they love to doubt.

By the end of day 3, the carpet in my study was worn out from my restless pacing – how to break this news to Glorfindel? With Elrond gone, there was nobody here who I could ask for advice, and sending a messenger to Arwen inquiring how she had told Estel about his upcoming fatherhood wasn't an option, either. She must have found a good way, though, for Estel had thrown a party which started on Monday and ended on Saturday morning, with all of Gondor drunk as Dwarves. I know because I was there, had to fish Glorfindel out of the duck pond at 4am and drag him to our chambers, while he sang at the top of his lungs "I knew a Mirkwood Maiden".

An unforgettable event, indeed.

I even went as far as writing down a short speech, which read more like a declaration of war than an announcement of parenthood, so I finally gave up, deciding to go with the flow and handle this situation calmly and sensibly when it arose. Don't cross a bridge before it has been built, as my nana used to say.

The only problem was that I was neither calm nor sensible – I was a nervous, irrational wreck of an Elf, biting my finger nails and shredding scroll after scroll into tiny little paper snippets, which soon covered the floor around my desk.

I leant back in my seat, shook my head and looked at the mess.

"Great", I said to Glorfinkle in an attempt at dark humour, "at least we already have the confetti for the great parade!"

The crow didn't answer, but dropped something – as usual, he made his point without many words.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep, for Fin had entered our chamber and I hadn't noticed. He was hovering over me, a smile on his face.

"Look who's home, darling," he chuckled, then lifted me up and hugged me. How I had missed this feeling – how I had missed him. The realisation hit me: how much he had become an essential part of my life.

Fin kissed me wildly, then, putting me back on the floor, he asked:

"So, my dark beauty, have you been missing me?"

I managed a grin.

"Not at all."

"Ai Elbereth – what horrid fate must I face here - pray tell, the dinner is not prepared, either, and you haven't ironed my tunics?"

"Of course not."

"Then, my dear, I shall punish you with at least two hours of exquisite love making."

He hugged me again, then, throwing off his cloak, he grinned: "I tell you, Erestor, Elladan gets weirder with every year. You would not believe what kind of prank he is up to now."

I wouldn't?

"What … kind of prank?" I asked, becoming suspicious.

Fin giggled as he unbuckled his belt and removed the sword. "It was hilarious – he asked me how I felt about you being pregnant!"

At this point, Fin exploded with laughter, and I didn't interrupt him – as long as he was laughing I didn't have to answer any questions.

Fin laughed for quite a while, then he wiped the tears from his eyes, and, looking at my serious mien, asked if I didn't think this to be most amusing.

I braced myself, took a deep breath and answered:

"No, Fin, I don't."

He looked confused, but I didn't give him the chance to interrupt – this had to be done. Now.

"Elladan was telling the truth. I am indeed with child – it seems I am a distant relative of Rabbit, which makes me a strange kind of Elf and gets my lineage in a mess, and it looks like I can bear children and didn't know it, and I am sorry, I really didn’t know and what are we going to do now?

I was babbling, and I knew it. Very unworthy of a skilled advisor and diplomat, this little speech, but surely Glorfindel would understand?

The great love of my life stood there, just staring at me. No emotion showed in his features – he would have looked the same if I had told him that the laundry had been done or that the sun was shining.

"Fin, I understand that you are upset, but please …" I began, but Fin cut me off.

"This can't be, Erestor. I – I don't want this."

"You don't want this? But Fin ..." I stuttered helplessly.

"No. No, it cannot be." he murmured, more to himself than to me.

* * *

Flashback Glorfindel

"Ada, let me come with you! I am old enough! And you taught me well how to handle the sword – oh please ada!"

The young elf was excited, beaming with an enthusiasm only youth and innocence could muster, looking up at his father with pleading eyes, and Glorfindel couldn't help but smile. Ah, those eyes - they had been the reason his wife had insisted on calling their son Luinil, which was the name of a star radiating with blue light. At first Glorfindel hadn't been enthusiastic, secretly thinking this was a name more suitable for a maiden than for the heir of a warrior, but Luinil was indeed a star, the light of his life, and it was hard for him to deny his son anything, for Luinil had always been more his son than hers. This time, however, he had to be firm.

"Penneth, your mother is right – you are far too young to join us in battle. 'Tis no game, my son – we risk our lives, and I will not be able to watch your back."

The youngster pouted.

"I am past my majority already, and I can do as I please."

Glorfindel nodded, but the smile had gone.

"Yes, you are – by two months. But while I compliment you on your courage and your eagerness to fight for our kin, you still lack in wisdom. A warrior without experience does not only endanger his own life, but also the lives of those around him. This is a responsibility you should never forget. I would really rather have you back here, protecting you mother, if protection should become necessary."

Luinil didn't comment on this, but he clenched his jaw, and Glorfindel knew his son well enough to know that the last word on this matter, at least from his son's point of view, had not yet been spoken.

* * *

"Glorfindel – you cannot allow this! I will not allow this! Luinil is much too young to leave Gondolin, yet alone go to a battle like this!"

The warrior looked at his wife, seeing the fear in her eyes, and sighed. He caressed her cheek, then rested his hand on her neck.

"My love – he is past his majority. We can plead, we can cry, we can shout – but we cannot forbid him to join the army if he wants. The Valar know I would rather have him safely here with you than on this Orc-infested, Valar forsaken battleground, but unless we tie him down to a chair, I know of no means to keep this young Elfling at home."

Though he was worried, too, Glorfindel was also proud. The young one was of the right spirit, and the true son of his father

She moved out of his reach.

"You are enjoying this, are you not? You are bursting with pride, do not gainsay me, I can see it in your eyes."

Anger coloured her cheeks, and her eyes were blazing.

"But it has always been like this, has it not? The great Glorfindel and his splendid friend Ecthelion – the greatest warriors of Gondolin. Much admired and beloved.

”Your pride will be your downfall one day, Glorfindel of Gondolin, heed my words. And should this pride be the downfall of our son, I will never forgive you."

With that, she turned around, and left. Glorfindel sighed again, but deep in his heart, he was looking forward to riding into battle side by side with his son.

* * *

"Ada …?"

"I am here, my son."

Glorfindel knelt down in the mud beside the bundle of shredded cloth and torn flesh that had been his son, and cradled the young Elf to his chest.

"I am sorry, ada …"

Fin stroked the blood-matted blonde hair, gently rocking the broken and battered body, and choked back his tears.

"There is nothing you need to be sorry for, my son. You fought bravely, and took down many enemies."

Luinil smiled brightly, then he clutched his father's cloak.

"Will I see you again, ada? Will you wait for me … there?"

"I will, my son, I will."

Fin gently, reverently pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, but the young Elf had already passed away, leaving his devastated father behind.

End Flashback

* * *

"Fin?"

I was getting worried. I had expected everything, from anger to hysteria, had secretly hoped for some kind of acceptance, but not his emotionless, blank face.

"Erestor … I …" he began, now looking at me with such grief and sadness that I felt cold all of a sudden, and the need to hug and comfort him.

"Fin, what is it? I know this must come as a shock, and it is unexpected, but I am sure we can sort this out; you will be a wonderful father, and …"

"NO!" Fin shouted, cutting my words off with a sharp gesture of his hand. He stood there, absolutely terrified, raking his hair again and again with his fingers.

"I am not a wonderful father. I … you deserve so much better, Erestor. The child deserves so much better. I ... I am sorry."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

So he had finally left me, my beloved. I had never actually believed that Elves could really fade because of grief, but now I felt coldness in my heart, numbing my mind, I felt sadness as never before, affecting the very core of my being.

I couldn't live without Fin.

* * *

Hours had passed since Fin's unexpected departure, hours that I had spent standing on the balcony, looking out into the dark, hoping to see him. It was cold, and I was miserable, so finally, I undressed and slipped into bed – less for my own sake than for that of the child. It was odd – all these years, I had been responsible only for myself and my duties, and now there was somebody helpless, completely dependent on me. This was a frightening thought, but at the same time, it was wonderful as well – somebody needed me.

I stared out of the windows into the night sky. I needed somebody as well – Fin. My heart was heavy, and the empty space beside me did little to improve my mood. I had gotten used to Fin – had taken his love for granted instead of cherishing it as the rare, precious gift it was.

I tossed and turned, and I longed for him. Longed for his laughter, his wit, his reassuring presence, longed for his lips and fingers on my skin, longed to be one with him.

Finally, I slipped into a dreamless slumber, and only woke up when a heavy weight dipped the bed beside me.

Fin. He was back. I sat up, and looked at him.

He had cried – that much was obvious. And from the way he looked and the state of his clothes, he must have spent the last hours running through bramble bushes. He was a pitiful sight, and I would have loved nothing more than to embrace him, hold him tight and tell him that I loved him, but I knew not if I still had the right to do so.

He just sat there, staring at me. Had he returned? Or had he come to say goodbye forever?

My beloved didn't say a word, just moved closer after a while, and took me in his arms, holding me tight, stroking my hair. I felt the wetness of his tears on my face, and their saltiness on my lips. I held him as close as possible in return, taking in his scent, and I wished I was a poet, so I could tell him how I felt, and what he meant to me, but I was only an advisor, and quoting Gil Galad's comments on battle strategies would have been out of place right now.

Finally, his hold weakened, and he moved to face me.

"I am sorry, Erestor – this came so … unexpectedly."

I gave him a weak smile.

"Yes, you could say that. And …" I broke off and took his large hand, gently holding it between mine.

"And how are things between us now, Glorfindel? For this I need to know, so do not fear to answer in all honesty."

Fin stroked my cheek, pressing an almost chaste kiss on my lips, and I tasted his fear, but also his love for me. Yes, you can taste love. It's sweet as honey and bitter as gall, but at the same time, it is the most delightful taste of all.

"Things between you and me are such that you made me the happiest Elf ever to walk in Middle-earth," he answered simply.

Then I was in his arms again, my face showered with butterfly kisses, callused fingers stroking my ears and neck, and that familiar heat arose, making my skin tingle, and I longed for him like I had never longed for anyone before.

"I am yours, Erestor" he murmured, "come what may. In life or death, I am yours, soul, heart, body and sword."

"The latter is especially prominent at the moment", I whispered in his ear, giving a short lick to the delicate point.

Fin growled, and his hand wandered up my inner thigh.

"Indeed, my dear Master Erestor, and it is about time we put it back in its sheath."

"That, my dear Lord Glorfindel, is a most sensible plan."

And one we carried out without further ado and to full satisfaction of both parties involved.

* * *

Later we lay, spent, exhausted and happy, Fin holding me tight, drawing tender circles on my shoulder with his thumb.

"One day I will tell you of a wonderful, brave young Elf called Luinil, my love. You would have liked him a lot."

"Luinil?" I murmured, already half asleep.

"That would be a lovely name for our Elfling …"

And with that, I entered dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I was a little unsure about the flashback, but as the Magic Rat so wisely said: "As we all know, life is not all skittles and beer. And it explains beautifully why Fin seems to go from marriage to marriage, and seems to distance himself from the people who love him."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberries, the pros and cons of pink nurseries, and an unexpected visitor from Lothlórien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

When the first beams of Anor started to play catch-me on my face, I woke up, and noticed immediately the wonderful scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air.

Fin sat at the table on the balcony, gesturing at the splendid breakfast outlaid in front of him, and smiled at me. Glorfinkle, Garfindel and Glorfunkle lurked on the railing and eyed the delicacies and Glorfindel with the same interest.

"Time to get up, my dear. Breakfast is ready, and I insist you eat up everything I brought along."

Fin had brought me breakfast? By free will? I sat up.

"Fin – are you running a fever?"

He grinned.

"Not at all, dear Erestor. The only thing that can get me hot and flushed is you, as you are well aware. I just thought that …"

Fin broke off, and looked at me a little insecure.

"You thought – the Valar have heard my prayers. So what is it you thought, dear Fin?"

"Well, I thought, we should celebrate this – surprise, and so I arranged for a luxurious breakfast. Just you and me. We will catch up on the results of our trip to the border later, for right now, I just want to enjoy your company."

I was touched. Who would have thought my Balrog slayer was a romantic at heart!

I got up, threw on a morning robe, and went over to the table. Fin had outdone himself – fresh bread, fruit (strawberries!), cheese, dried meats, vegetables, honey, butter – you name it, he brought it.

"You are wonderful", I said, and bent down to kiss him.

Fin, never one to pass an opportunity, put his arms around my waist and drew me to sit on his lap, which was ridiculous, after all I was not a blushing Elf maiden, but it was nice to be held this way, so I slung my arms around his neck and decided not to put up a fight for once, but to simply enjoy the intimacy.

"Fin - are you really comfortable with this?" I asked.

"Very comfortable. Though it would be more fun if we were naked."

"FIN!"

He got serious again.

"I am confused, that much is true, but I am also very happy. Yesterday ..."

He broke off, and there was a shadow clouding his eyes. What is it, my love, that pains you so, I thought, but I didn't ask. Fin would eventually tell me, when the time was right. And it was him to decide that moment. For now, I only ran my fingers through his hair, and kissed him.

He nuzzled my neck.

I took one of the strawberries, and made a big show of eating the delicious fruit. First I wet my lips, then nibbled on the tip and carefully licked off the sweet, red juice before I finally sucked it slowly in my mouth. Fin swallowed hard, and I chuckled - it was always nice to have an audience who paid attention and appreciated my performance.

Fin cleared his throat.

"Ah, you haven't seen the best bit yet."

He reached for a mug, which he firmly pressed in my hand.

I sniffed.

Ew.

"Ai Elbereth – what foul draught is that, Fin! It smells worse than Mauburz' Eau de Mordor!"

He grinned.

"Mauburz has brewed it, especially for you. She said it was 'Old Orcish family recipe. Tea which helps when you go blech in morning'."

"But I do not feel sick in the morning", I protested.

Fin gave me a stern look.

"Don't be ridiculous, Erestor. You are pregnant, and all pregnant fema- I mean, all pregnant Elves are suffering from morning sickness."

"Well, I don't!" I said firmly.

"This might be, but you will drink it anyway."

"I will not."

"Will."

"Not."

"Orc."

"Imp."

"Love you."

"Too."

The mug crashed on the floor, spilling its foul content all over the balcony, but we didn't care, for we were too busy kissing.

Finally, Fin lifted me up, and attempted to carry me back to the bed.

"Don't sprain your back, dear," I commented dryly when he seemed to have trouble carrying my not inconsiderable weight.

"Don't worry, my love – if you should become too heavy, I'll simply drop you."

"And what is with breakfast?" I asked.

"Your crows will be happy to take care of it - and who said we would not indulge in a feast?" Fin replied, giving me a decidedly dirty look.

He quickly removed my robe, then nibbled his way from my ear to my belly button, which got kissed reverently. Directing my stomach, he said:

"Mae govannen, penneth, this is your future ada speaking. Nice to meet you – and now please have the courtesy to look the other way, for your mother and I will perform some acts which are not suitable to witness for Elflings of your age."

"Fin – I am not the mother. Mothers are female."

Fin shook his head.

"Nonsense. You carry the child, so you are the mother."

"I am not."

"Sure are."

"Not!"

"Don't be so stubborn!"

"Pot calling kettle black!"

Fin abused my momentary lack of attention and rolled on top of me.

"So, my dear advisor, now that I have your full attention: would you prefer the nursery to be pink or lavender?"

I stared at Fin in horror.

"Pink? Lavender? Glorfindel – do you want our Elfling to be traumatized at such an early age already?"

"Pink is a very nice colour, and most fitting for a young Elven lady."

"It might as well be a male Elfling."

"Absolutely not – you are pear shaped, which always indicates a pregnancy with a female, and …"

"PEAR SHAPED? Did you say PEAR SHAPED?"

I whacked him with a pillow.

"I am not pear shaped! I have never been pear shaped! And I shall never be pear shaped! Who told you this nonsense?"

"My grand nana used to say so, and she must know, for she had 7 children."

"Humbug. You shall wait and see what you will get."

"And what may that be that I will get?" he asked, and ran his tongue from the hollow of my neck to my left nipple, his hands stroking down my bare sides.

"Will it be worth the wait?"

A short flick of his tongue over my right nipple.

"You will get what I give you," I gasped, and Fin grinned.

"Do I get anything now?" he asked, nipping.

"Oh yes …" I growled, " … all of it!"

* * *

Two eventful and most satisfying hours later, Fin and I sat in the council. Elrond held a short speech to begin with, explaining our amazed fellow council members as little as they needed to know about the circumstances which had lead to my circumstances, and while they all looked like a dwarf had hit them over the head with a battle axe, none really dared to gainsay.

Master Braefin, who was suspected to have an illumination of me in his cellar to keep the rats away, opened his mouth to comment, but being confronted with MenU (menace united), consisting of Fin, Mauburz, the twins and Elrond's Eyebrows Of Doom, not to talk the known presence of Rabbit somewhere in a bush, he decided that holding the peace would be the wisest thing to do.

The reports from the border were unsettling. A great number of Orcs had collected in the North; who their warlord was we didn't know yet, but that nothing good could come out for us from this was clear.

Elrond sighed.

"And there I was, thinking our troubles had ended with the damnable ring gone."

Glorfindel hit the armrest with his fist.

"We need to find out who these Orcs are, where they are coming from, and who their leader is. We need to learn what their purpose is – sure they haven't come to Rivendell pick flowers."

Elrond turned to me.

"Erestor – you have always been my most capable advisor. What do you say?"

I gave the matter some thought.

"Before we decide anything, we need to find out what evil plan is festering in their minds", I said, "so maybe we should try to capture one and interrogate him."

Feronil, another advisor, shook his head.

"That's a nice idea, Master Erestor, but it won't work. We have tried this before, alas, these creatures are as talkative as clams, and none of our interrogation techniques had proven any success."

"Pray tell, Master Feronil," I said, a little insulted, "but usually, my interrogation techniques are most effective!"

Beside me, Elrohir whispered to Elladan: "Nobody escapes the Noldorian inquisition …" and they both chuckled.

Impertinent Elflings.

Feronil rolled his eyes.

"Master Erestor, I don't question your abilities, and I am sure Mortals or Dwarves break down and tell you all you want to know after being exposed for two hours to Lindir's singing and not getting any sugar with their tea for luncheon, but I am most afraid that this won't work with Orcs. Indeed," he said, and threw a dirty look in Lindir's direction, "Orcs might even enjoy his performance."

Lindir, whose ears had turned a brighter shade of red, jumped up, threw his cloak over his shoulder in a most dramatic way, and huffed: "You, my dear lord, are a philistine!"

With this, he made an exit council left, the dramatic effect somewhat dimmed when he stumbled over one of Bramble's toys and fell down the stairs.

It was, indeed, not a day in favour of the arts.

Master Feronil rubbed his hands gleefully. I wish he would just tell Lindir that he loves him and get it over and done with.

We decided to discuss this matter further in two days, and with this, the council ended. I was just about to head for my rooms when Elrond touched my shoulder.

"Erestor – please come to the Healing House, I didn't have a chance yet to properly examine you."

"Would it help if I'd say that it is not necessary and that I feel fine?"

"No."

Escorted by Fin and Elladan, I followed Elrond to the House of Healing.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, Elrond had finished his job.

"From what I can tell, all is fine, but needless to say, I don't know anything about the course of male pregnancies. I would say you can expect to deliver in about four month's time, but no guarantees on this. This is a miracle. Erestor, one could envy you!"

I gave an evil laughter.

"Sure, sure, Elrond, you would be the first to jump at the chance of suffering from downright bizarre food cravings and swollen ankles, now wouldn't you."

He preferred not to answer this, but Fin peeped in: "I wouldn't have any problems, if this had happened to me."

The thought of a pregnant Balrog slayer caused a bout of hysteric laughter, which earned me a stern and slightly insulted look from Fin. When I finally recovered, I asked:

"And why would that be, dear Fin?"

He bestowed on me an arrogant look.

"Because I, unlike you, dear Erestor, am secure in my masculinity."

Deciding not to follow that train of thought in any direction, I rolled my eyes and turned to Elrond.

"You are a healer - can you at least tell me how … well … how this all works? I mean …" I broke off, blushing again, damned be it, and Elrond shrugged, a little helpless.

"I am most sorry, dear friend, but I have no idea. It just happened, but how, I can't tell. To learn more about this, we would have to cut you up and see how you are built, but that is out of question, I suppose."

I paled visibly, seeing Elladan's face lighting up at this prospect.

"Elladan", Elrond said, without turning around, "put the saw away."

Which Elladan did, but it was clear to see he was quite disappointed.

* * *

Later, I headed for the training ground, sword girded, and I was in the best of moods. Fin loved me, I was healthy and, I have to repeat it, not pear shaped, the sun was shining, and I felt wonderful. I was even starting to develop mild fatherly feelings for the Balrog slayer embryo in my womb.

"Where are you going?" asked Fin, who obviously had decided to follow me like a shadow. From the rustling in the bushes, I suspected Rabbit wasn't that far, either.

"Sparring with Elrohir," I answered, and continued my walk.

"Are you mad, you son of an Orc?" Fin cried. "You can't go and fight in your – condition."

I stopped, and crossed my arms.

"Fin – I am with child, not sick. Until 24 hours ago, you didn't know about my 'condition', and four days ago, even I didn't know. I feel great. I feel wonderful. In fact I never felt better. If you intend to wrap me up in cotton wool for the next few months, you better start looking for another place to sleep."

Fin growled – something he seems to do a lot lately.

"What do I have to do to make you see sense – tie you up?"

I had an Orc under my bonnet, so I said: "Ties – no. But how about a bond?"

Uh. I had done it. I had said it. The "B" word. The Evil Word Beginning With A B.

Fin took a step back.

"What do you mean by this …?"

"Bond. As in: bonding. Marriage. Forever and ten days. No return. Final. Last stable before the havens. You and me for all eternity. In front of witnesses. Vows. Guests. Cake. Useless presents. B.O.N.D."

He scratched his head.

"You know I love you, darling, but we really shouldn't rush things, and …"

"Ai, don't worry, dear Glorfindel, if you don't want to bond with me, I am sure somebody else will – this very nice advisor of Estel, for example, what was his name - Fenrir. A most charming young man, and so very mild on the eyes – I am sure he would be receptive to the idea, if only …"

6 feet 5 inches of very unamused and muscular Balrog-slayer towered in front of me, his nose almost touching mine, and there was a fire in his eyes I had never seen before.

"My dear, darling Erestor – should dear, darling Fenrir do even as much as think of you without my prior permission, I shall lay out his dear, darling innards to dry in the sun, and then feed them to your feathered beasts afterwards."

Oops.

"Fin?"

"Yes?"

"You have not any intention to pee on my front door to mark your territory, have you."

Fin gave me a very smug grin.

"Not yet, my dear."

* * *

Sparring with Elrohir was no fun. The poor young one had always one fearful eye on Glorfindel, so eventually, I gave up.

Fin was most pleased.

We all sat in the grass and enjoyed the afternoon sun, when, all of a sudden, Elrohir jumped up, grabbed for his sword and hissed: "There is somebody in the bushes!"

Fin shrugged.

"Rabbit, I suppose. Catching Erestor's dinner. Or frolicking with Haldir."

I shook my head.

"No. If it was Rabbit, you wouldn't hear him."

Listening carefully, we all noticed heavy breathing and the rustling of leaves.

"Hear? Hear? And this is not the first time! I got the eerie feeling somebody was following me for two weeks already."

Elrohir slowly stalked towards the bush.

With a yell, he jumped in head first, then we heard a scream, a couple of birds fled from the commotion, an exclamation of pain could be heard and finally, Elrond's youngest and supposedly brightest son rolled out of the bush.

"Something bit me!"

"Show me." Fin said, and Elrohir, who had been clutching his hand to his chest, showed us the wound. It was a perfect teeth mark - but not from an animal.

"Some nice rabbit you've caught yourself there, Elrohir", Fin joked.

"Did you see who it was?"

"No, this rotten individual was too quick. But I will find out!"

With that, he marched off.

"Are we going to have a situation here?" I asked, a little worried.

Fin shrugged.

"With Elrohir on the war path, one can never know. Maybe it's just one of my former wives who is tired of waiting for her maintenance."

A most comforting theory.

* * *

Another sleepless night ahead – first I couldn't fall asleep because it was too cold, then I couldn't find slumber for the blanket was too hot, and Fin's blissful snoring wasn't that much of a help, either. Who had ever heard of snoring Elves, anyway – and of course I had to get myself the only exemplar in existence.

What a catch!

As sleep was no option, I put on my robe and headed once again for the kitchen, hoping that a glass of hot milk might help me to fall asleep.

The chief and two maids were sitting around the table, the females chopping carrots for the next day's luncheon.

They all nodded friendly when I entered.

"Well met, Master Erestor. Is there anything I can bring you?" the younger of the two ladies asked, and I nodded.

"Yes – I find it hard to fall asleep, so I wondered if you might find the time to warm some milk for me?"

"But of course, Master Erestor! Here, take a seat, I will have your milk ready in no time."

I thanked, and sat down at the table, watching the older of the kitchen maids chopping carrots and eyeing me curiously.

"Are you feeling well, Master Erestor?"

"Why – yes, thank you. The sleeplessness aside, I am fine."

"That's good to hear," she nodded, and kept on chopping.

"You shouldn't walk around like this at night, dear Master. Not in your delicate condition," she said, and waved her index finger at me.

"Pray tell, dear madam, what harm could befall me within the walls of the Last Homely House," I answered, amused and at the same time touched by the compassion she showed.

"Ah – I know of a woman who was with child, and went in the cellar to get some bottles of mead for her husband, there she got scared by a big rat, and when the baby was born, it had black button eyes and whiskers!"

I laughed. What nonsense!

Or … not?

"But certainly this story is nothing but a tale from old …" I began, but she cut me off.

"No, no, Master Erestor, believe me, these things do happen! The cousin of a friend of mine who lives over in Mirkwood told me that she knows of a family whose oldest son has eight legs, and all because the father had fought some Mirkwood spiders the day he sired his son!"

She accentuated each word with a whack of her knife, and I was most grateful when the younger maiden handed me a cup with hot milk and I could make a leave.

"Thank you, this was most friendly, my lady. I wish you all a pleasant night."

I got up, and headed for the door.

"Do not forget my advice, dear Master Erestor!" the matron called after me.

"I shall indeed not, dear lady", I muttered, and hasted out of the kitchen.

Whiskers. Eight legs. What nonsense. Who was spinning such yarn! Who in his sane mind would possibly believe such …

"Careful!" a female voice called, but it was too late.

In my eagerness to leave the kitchen, I had run into a shelf were all kind of berries were stored, and a huge wicker basket with raspberries toppled over, spreading its tasty load in front of my feet. I almost had a heart attack.

That was it then – I would have to prepare Glorfindel for the prospect of having a child looking like a raspberry.

***

I was just adding some chocolate sauce to my cheese-and-frog-feet-sandwich during luncheon when Elrond suddenly paled. A strangled moan escaped his lips, and he gasped: "It's Galadriel – she will arrive any minute!"

We all hasted outside, and Fin muttered: "Darn the lady – can't she just send a messenger three weeks before her visit so one can hide, instead of far speaking five minutes before her arrival?"

I preferred not to comment, and hardly had we all arrived outside when the Lórien Elves arrived. Galadriel and Celeborn rode in the front, followed by Rúmil and Orophin and about 50 other Elves. Much to my surprise, I noticed two of King Thrandúil's daughters.

"Mae govannen, Galadriel", Elrond said, and forced a smile.

"What an unexpected pleasure to see you so soon again."

"I know you are glad to see me - who wouldn't be," she announced, then slipped off her horse, attempting to kiss Elladan; Elrohir was nowhere to be seen.

Lucky Elf.

After the proper welcome were exchanged, Elrond remembered that it was him who was the Lord of Imladris, and he asked nervously:

"And what lucky circumstances do I have to thank which lead you our way, dearest mother-in-law?"

"Ai," she exclaimed, and clapped her hands, "circumstances indeed!"

She approached me, and patted my belly.

I hate this. Ever since news had gotten out about my "circumstances", every Elf in Imladris felt the need to pat my stomach - the Valar know the last thing I needed were tourists from Lórien to do the same!

"I am here to take part in this miracle."

Elbereth help. Where was he, my courageous Balrog slayer, when I needed him?

"My lady, your concern honours me, but I really don't think there is much you could do at the moment, the birth is still months away, and to be honest, I am very busy, with all the scrolls to catalogue and ..."

"But this is exactly the reason why I am here!" she cheered, rudely interrupting me.

"You have too much work - all these years, you have burdened yourself with more duties than you could handle, and now that you are with child, it is time to step back."

I gawped at her, and Elrond tried to protest, saying I was in best of health and that there was no need to ...

"My dear son in law," Galadriel cut him off with a smile that would have scared a Warg to death, "while I do understand and appreciate your loyalty towards our cherished and highly valued Erestor, you certainly agree that the situation is much too grave at the moment to take any risks. You need somebody to advise you who is not under stress."

Stress? Who? Me? I wasn't under stress. I never felt better. Sure, there were my mood swings, not to talk about my hunger attacks and my somewhat irrational behaviour, but over all, I was a perfect example for a normal male pregnancy.

Did I just write that?

Elrond was about to get angry.

"Even if Erestor is under stress, I am still capable to handle any situation here. I have done so many millennia, and I can assure you, dear Galadriel, that everything here is under control."

Before anybody could say a further word, Elrohir crawled out of a bush. He was dressed all in greens, his face was painted in greens and browns, and his long, dark tresses were decorated with leaves and daisies.

"Hello grandmother" he cheerfully said, "good to see you! I am sorry, but I have no time for a great welcome, I have to track down the ferocious wildebeest which lurks in our bushes here. I hope this camouflage trick Estel told me about will work."

With that, he crawled in the next bush, and was not seen anymore.

Galadriel cocked an eyebrow.

"I see - everything is under control, indeed."

Elrond sent a pleading look over to Celeborn, who was too busy brushing off some specks of dust from his saddle to notice.

Wuss.

"So what do you suggest then, dear Galadriel?" Elrond asked.

"Oh, I suggest that, until the little Elfling is born, Erestor shall rest, and his duties should be taken over by somebody who is skilled, wise and does care for the needs of all Elves."

The emphasis on the word "all" made me frown. Galadriel waved her hand, a white steed pranced forward, and my frown turned immediately into a full-bloomed twitch, especially when I looked at Glorfindel, who had eyes like saucers, his jaw was hanging down and I expected his tongue to roll out any second.

"This is the replacement for Master Erestor, dear Elrond – a cousin of mine, most skilled on the field of diplomacy, and secretary of 'Emancipated Elf Maidens of Middle Earth' (EEOME) – Lady Firinwë."

Elrond groaned, but then he only gawped.

It was clear to see why Fin was most impressed by the new arrival. Or Elrond. Or every other male present. A thick cloud of pheromones was hanging over Rivendell - the lady Firinwë was one of the most exceptionally beautiful she-Elves known to the Firstborns.

Hair like silver reached down to her waist, eyes almost as blue as Glorfindel's sparkled, perfect lips with a slight pout curved into a smile and promised kisses sweeter than wine, a wonderful figure, long, elegant hands, skin like peaches with cream, and on top of that obviously also a lot of experience in politics and strategy. A perfect replacement.

Needless to say, I hated her from the very first second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lindir: yes, Troubadix has herewith been mary-sued. It had to happen sooner or later. As for the stumble-over-the-robe-incident: this tragic event took place during a performance of Shakespeare's "Richard III", and I know this because I was the klutz who embarrassed herself on stage._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Nobody escapes the Spanish Inquisition" and "Ferocious Wildebeests": Monty Python. Who else._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about Elladan... faint heart never won fair Peredhel, Galadhrim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Meanwhile, back in Imladris …" – this chapter is not told from Erestor's p.o.v., as he does not know what is going on over at the Last Homely Healing House – and who could blame him, he really has other things to think of at the moment...
> 
> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Elladan knew immediately who his visitor was when he heard the short, sharp rap on the door. It was not a request to enter the Healing House - it was a demand.

"Come in, Orophin", he called, and carefully put away the tome with frivolous illuminations from the 2nd age he had nicked from the library. It was one of many from Gil-Galad's private collection ("for Elrond, my loyal herald"), and Elladan, whose experience on the field of romance and bodily pleasures was fairly limited, found the book to be most inspiring, but he preferred not to be caught red-handed, so to speak, and the mere thought of Orophin's disapproving look and stern features gave him the cold shivers. Like all of the Lórien Elves, he had this air of perfection which Elladan equally admired and annoyed.

For Elladan himself was far from being perfect. He had never understood why everybody was fussing over the "amazing likeness" between him and his brother; their differences were so obvious the only conclusion Elladan could come to was that either the Elves of Rivendell all had serious eye defects, or simply ignored the reality because they liked the idea of identical twins so much.

Where Elrohir was lean and graceful, Elladan was bulky and clumsy; for each of Elrohir's witty remarks Elladan stuttered twice, and while the vegetation seemed to bow in front of Elrohir's natural grace, tree roots tended to grow exactly and with evil intent where Elladan walked, obviously with the sole purpose to make him stumble and fall.

Elrohir's hair cascaded down his back like brown silk, while Elladan had given up the fight to keep his unruly mane at bay long ago, saved himself the useless trouble of trying for fanciful braiding, and just went for two simple warrior braids instead. Even his ears were less pointed than Elrohir's, and while Elladan loved listening to his younger brother's melodious, warm voice, he had the music understanding of a tree frog, and if he'd tried to sing, the frog would have had the virtue.

Considering all this, it was only natural that Elrohir was courted by many with gifts and promises of eternal love, had his beauty praised and worshipped in songs and poems, while Elladan found that the few Elves who had shown interest in him were eyeing more the prospects of the heir of Imladris than his possible assets.

In other words: the much-praised likeness between Elrohir and Elladan was about as "amazing" as the one between Asfaloth and Bill The Pony.

Elladan remembered very well a thoughtless remark by one of his mother's handmaidens: "The Valar have been tight-fisted when it came to Elladan with their gifts so they could give plenty of grace to Elrohir".

Their father must have realized their difference the very second they had been born – how else could it be explained that "Elrohir" was the Elf Knight, while "Elladan" was a mix between Elf and Man – only half of one and not fully the other? Indeed – Elladan couldn't deny that the human heritage showed much stronger in him than in Elrohir. He was thanking the Valar daily that at least they had spared him the humiliation of chest hair and a receding hairline – that would have been too much to bear, even for him.

If Elladan had not been the friendly-natured Elf he was, such injustice could have caused serious tension among the siblings, but he loved Elrohir way too much to be envious, and if Elrohir noticed anything, he never mentioned it; even hero-worshipped his elder brother and would never have tolerated any degrading remarks about Elladan.

Elladan had stunned all of Imladris, and especially his father, when he first voiced his wish to become a healer. It had begun with animals he brought home from the woods when he was still an Elfling – birds with broken wings, stray dogs, hedgehogs that had missed to hide for the winter.

But Elladan was a warrior. He could shoot a bird's eye out in the dark, though he would have never done such a thing, for he loved animals and even refused to eat meat, feasting on fruits and vegetables instead, which earned him more than only one puzzled look from Rabbit. He was born to wield a sword, not picking healing herbs, and he was lacking everything a good healer needed. At least this was the official opinion of almost everybody in Imladris, for Elladan was rough with the patients, couldn't keep the many healing herbs apart and dropped the jars.

But there was one skill Elladan possessed which most healers lacked: a genuine love for all beings alive, and compassion for those who suffered. And while the guards loudly complained about the rough treatment of their wounds and secretly called him "Elladan the Butcher Boy", they still returned every time they were injured and let him do his duty, for they instinctively felt his compassion, that he suffered when they suffered, and tried to share and ease their pain.

Elladan had been awfully proud when Elrond assigned to him the task of looking after Master Erestor all through the pregnancy - under supervision, of course - and secretly, he was surprised that his stern former tutor had agreed to this arrangement and Glorfindel hadn't downright refused. The knowledge that the intimidating chief advisor trusted him in such a personal matter, despite doubtful looks down his long nose and more than one sarcastic remark from Glorfindel, filled Elladan with great joy, and he would have gone to Mordor and back if it would have been for the benefit of Erestor, Glorfindel and their unborn Elfling.

For now, however, it was not about Elflings and advisors, but one injured Galadhrim.

Orophin strolled in, as usual without saying a word, only bowing his head slightly in greeting. He was clutching his left arm to his chest, and there was a pained expression on his usually stern and emotionless face.

"What has happened this time, Master Orophin?" Elladan asked.

"Tree. Fell down," the Galadhrim grumbled.

Elladan frowned. Fallen from a tree? A Galadhrim?

He was beginning to suspect the stories about the legendary Guards of the Golden Wood were slightly exaggerated. Since Orophin's arrival in Rivendell, the archer had been to the Healing House almost every second day.

Once it was an injury he got during training, then he had cut himself with a knife while gutting a rabbit, his horse had knocked him out, there had been bruises when he had fallen off a wall and not to forget the incident where Elladan had to treat Orophin's thumb after the Galadhrim had squeezed the digit on a jar with pickled Frog Feet. Was it possible that he had finally found somebody who was even clumsier than himself?

Elladan only wished that Elrond could have a look at the archer once, maybe there was something wrong with his equilibrium, but unfortunately, Orophin always managed to injure himself on days when Elladan was on duty and Elrond nowhere in sight.

Today it was a nasty bruise on the elbow which brought Orophin to the Healing House, and while Orophin took off his tunic – which wasn't really necessary, he could have simply rolled up his sleeve – Elladan went to the shelf and took down the jar with the ointment basis, put some of it in the mortar with a spatula, and added kahikatea, which he had found most efficient to treat bruises. It also had a lovely, woodsy scent to it which was much more pleasant than the ointment Elrond tended to use and which stank like a dozen unwashed Orcs.

Elladan carefully mixed the ingredients, stored away the herbs and the jar and returned to his patient, where he started to apply the sticky ointment.

While he concentrated on his work, he more than once watched his patient when he thought Orophin wasn't looking – and who could have blamed him. Like all of the Galadhrim, Orophin wasn't exactly beaten with the ugly stick, though he definitely lacked Haldir's famous beauty or Rúmil's charms, but then, neither the one nor the other had ever caught Elladan's attention. He thought Rúmil to be moody and Haldir a wuss, and had often wondered how in the Valar's name a relationship between a couple as different as Rabbit and Haldir could work, but at the end of the day, he mused, it didn't really matter as long as it did work.

The thought of Haldir trying to convince Rabbit to get a manicure and a facial was most amusing, though.

Elladan almost giggled at this picture, quickly turned to fetch some bandages, and carefully wrapped them around Orophin's elbow.

"Do not take the bandage off, Orophin, also not for the night, and make sure it won't get soaked, as the ointment needs to work undisturbed. You should feel much better by tomorrow. Come back in the afternoon, and I shall have a look at it."

Orophin nodded, and slipped off the examination bed, stretching his body with the elegance and grace of a wildcat. There was definitely something feline in his features and the way he moved, and Elladan couldn't help but wonder how such an elegant creature managed to fall off trees, horses and walls on a regular basis.

Definitely a problem with the equilibrium – he would have to ask his ada about it.

* * *

Orophin woke up early in the next morning, and the first thing he did was sitting up and checking on his elbow. He unwrapped the bandages, and experimentally moved his arm. No pain, and hardly any bruising anymore.

In other words, his day was ruined.

The Galadhrim angrily shook his head and secretly cursed the self-healing abilities of his people, for by now, he was running out of excuses to visit the Healing House. He had deliberately hit his head on the door, forced his horse to kick him and even went as far as hitting his elbow with the frying pan - and all this to have an excuse to go and see Elladan.

Now how sad was that. Orophin shook his head and growled.

The house of Elrond was cursed.

Orophin tried to avoid memories of his courtship to Lady Arwen, which had ended with a broken nose for him, and a wedding with this cursed Estel for her – though, if he was honest, he was quite grateful for this turn of fate. Things would have never worked out between him and the spoilt daughter of Elrond; she needed to be the centre of attention and somebody she could boss around, like Estel, who was waiting on her hand and foot. Orophin had fallen for her beauty and charms, but never had his heart skipped a beat like it did when seeing Elladan stumble over his robes or catching his braids in an arrow.

But how to court him? After tending to the broken nose Rúmil had caught when Lord Glorfindel had explained in unmistakeable terms that Master Erestor was his advisor, and any attempts to change this fact would result in serious bodily harm, Lord Celeborn had made it very clear that courting any members of his son-in-law's household was about as taboo as making indecent proposals to Lady Galadriel.

So Orophin had dropped the idea of presenting Elladan officially with a Warg; a courting technique which, he had to admit, was lacking a bit of grace.

Sending flowers or pastry was out of question, and so Orophin, after being injured during a sparing session with Elrohir, had found himself sitting on the examination bed in the Healing House, with Elladan bowed over his hip, stitching him up, and the Galadhrim suddenly realized this Valar-sent solution for his problem.

Orophin didn't consider Elladan clumsy at all. He actually enjoyed the touch of the older twin's hands on his skin very much. But how to move from hip and elbow to more pleasurable parts?

He had never joined in the enthusiastic cheers over "Fair Elrohir"; maybe the younger twin did have a lovely glow to his skin, but Elladan – Elladan was glowing from within, and this held much more appeal to Orophin than a lovely voice or neatly braided hair. Not to mention the fact that Elrohir had lately spent most of his time crawling around in bushes, which was a very odd behaviour, even for somebody related to Elrond.

No – Elladan would be his. And if he had to break every single bone in his body and throw Lord Celeborn in the Bruinen on top of it to finally earn the right to nibble on those highly enchanting ears (not to talk of other enchanting bits) and comb out the knots in Elladan's hair, he would do it.

Orophin got dressed and went to look for Bramble – maybe he could convince his niece to bite his ankle.

After all, faint heart had never won fair Peredhel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elfling is getting restless, Erestor makes it clear that Glorfindel is HIS Balrog slayer, and he finds the first trace of Glorfindel's sad secret.
> 
> (Yes, this series used to be called "The Young and the Orcless", how did you guess?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

It is bad if you live in a place where Orcs are too close for comfort.

It is worse if this means you have to carry a sword with you all the time.

But it's a disaster if you are eight months pregnant and find yourself unable to gird your sword belt anymore because you have the figure of a constipated cave troll.

I was getting depressed, but Fin couldn't understand it.

"You look fabulous, darling, and you have to admit, this stomach of yours is most handy for hobbits who seek shelter from the rain …"

Cretin.

One day, while I was floating in the bath, Glorfinkle landed on my stomach for a rest. They say no Elf is an island; the crow thought otherwise.

Ai Elbereth! Why me! Why me!

I threw the sword including sheath and belt in a corner, cursed a blue streak down on Fin's head for getting me in this state, and went to the other room to fetch my bow and quiver.

Not that I was really upset with Fin for turning our dynamic duo into a trio - after all, the training for the actual event had been most pleasant and satisfying, so you will not hear any complaints from my part. But by now I really wished our Elfling would be born soon; I was getting tired and moody, even depressed at times, and I felt increasingly uncomfortable with my appearance.

This aside, our Elfling was of a fiery temper, judging from the kicks and pokes I received. Interestingly enough, our offspring seemed to have a very settled opinion about our kin and friends already; hardly a movement besides a gentle floating could be felt when I was talking to Elrond, or when Glorfindel was near (save for the incident when Fin mentioned in my presence his plans to paint the nursery pink, and our Elfling jerked in what I assumed to be terror).

Happy bouncing occurred in the presence of the twins, and something I can only loosely describe as Uruk'hai battle technique knocked me almost off my feet on the rare occasions where I had to talk to Lady Firinwë.

One of these unpleasant encounters had taken place at Mauburz' shop; the Orc disliked Lady Firinwë with a vengeance, and I still have serious doubts it really was an accident when Mauburz stumbled that day, carrying a two gallon barrel and consequently showering the lady from Lothlórien with Eau de Mordor, so Elrond had to quarantine her for a week and moved her to quarters which were close to the pig stables.

That day, our Elfling rummaged around in my womb like never before. Mauburz, who had brought me a chair to sit on, stated with a smug grin: "You have clever Elfling, nice Master Erestor. Elfling doesn't like stoopid Elf lady."

And, patting my stomach with her paw, she added: "You hear? Elfling growls."

Great. A growling baby. Just the thing I needed.

Cursed be the day Lady Firinwë arrived in Rivendell, taking up my place in the council "...while our dear Master Erestor is on maternal leave" and being busy ever since re-arranging and "modernizing" our ways.

And re-arranging and modernizing she did, by Elbereth!

Galadriel had made it clear in unmistakable terms that the lady should have free reign in everything, and while Elrond winced and ground his teeth, he bowed to her wishes.

We all sat gathered around the table in the morning for breakfast, and found our plates loaded with raw carrots, celery and cucumbers.

"Is this one of your pranks again, my dear sons?" Elrond asked, and gave his twins The Eyebrow.

Elladan and Elrohir shook their heads simultaneously, poking at the vegetables with their forks.

"We would never play pranks on you during breakfast", Elrohir said, and this was true, because Elrond was out of grace with everybody until 10 am, and without a proper breakfast, he could have scared an Orc with his mood.

The Lord of Imladris got up, straightened in all his glory, doing his best to look regal and intimidating.

"Who is responsible for this!" he boomed, and his voice echoed from the walls of the Last Homely House.

"Why me, of course, my dear Lord Elrond", and in came Lady Firinwë, carrying a large tray with various bowls, followed, as usual, by her rat-sized pet dog "Bubu" (don't ask). She put one of the bowls in front of each of us, and we all stared down at the steaming, mud-coloured, sticky and stinky substance they contained.

Elrond looked at the bowl, then up at Lady Firinwë.

"My dear lady," he started, "I would like to..."

"Oh, but you really don't have to thank me," she said, patting his shoulder, "it is a pleasure for me to cook for you. This wonderful meal I will serve you every day from now on; you all have gone a little stout, and we need to get you back in fighting form. Raw vegetables and horsetail-and-wheat-porridge is just the best thing to start your day!"

Haldir, who had winced at the word "stout", made a calming gesture towards Rabbit, whose facial expression clearly indicated that he would prefer to make the lady his breakfast meal. But as usual, he complied with his mate's wishes, and sat down again, grumbling and growling.

The growl was echoed from the other end of the table where Orophin sat, head bowed over the meal and sniffing suspiciously. He poked the bowl with a finger, then said to Rúmil: "It moved. Maybe it's still alive."

Lady Veet, one of King Thrandúil's daughters, whispered to her sister: "Liritar, this looks and smells exactly like the stuff Legolas puts on his face to keep his skin smooth!" Both girls pulled a face and snickered.

Elrond sat in his chair, looking unhappy and miserable.

"Ai, Erestor, nobody knows how I suffer. I have one daughter who ran off with a mortal, one son who spends his days crawling around in bushes, another son who has the healing talents and grace of a goblin, and now I have to eat celery for breakfast. Will my sorrows never end?"

"Do not despair, my lord", I said, in an effort to cheer him up, "it is only temporary. As soon as our Elfling is here, we can send the lady back to Lórien."

Elrond grabbed for a carrot, and waved it in front of my nose.

"Master Erestor, you better hurry up and deliver soon!"

And, taking a bite of the carrot, he added:

"This is NOT a request!"

BuBu howled and hid behind Lady Firinwë's robe, shivering and eyeing Bramble, who sat under the table.

"Ada!" she crowed, and tugged on Haldir's tunic, "My dog breakfast! It run away!"

Welcome to Rivendell, the Least Homely House.

* * *

The last autumn leaves were falling outside, the wind had gotten colder; not gently caressing my skin anymore, but biting and heralding that winter was close, not singing soft songs on warm summer nights, but howling like a ring wraith around the Last Homely House.

When I finally managed to fix my quiver to my back, no easy task with the extra tonnage I was carrying now, and walked down the stairs, I passed Glorfindel's study. He was talking to Elrond, and when I heard my name, I halted my steps and listened. Why was Fin talking about me with Elrond?

"Glorfindel, heed my advise as one of your oldest friends: you must tell Erestor the truth."

Truth? What truth? I stepped closer to the door, and heard Fin sigh.

"Ai, Elrond how could I tell him. Despite his declarations of health, he is not feeling well. How could I burden him with this?"

I heard Elrond pacing up and down, as it was his habit when nervous.

"Erestor has a right to know, Glorfindel. How can you share your life with him if you don't share this? The truth might hurt sometimes, but it is always preferable to silence - or a lie."

"He will despise me when I tell him, how could he not, when he learns what I have done?"

A cold hand was squeezing my heart together. Had Fin…? No, this couldn't be. Fin would never...

"Do not torment your heart anymore, Glorfindel. It may sound cruel, but these things do happen, and we must learn to live with them. Erestor loves you with all his heart, this I know for sure. He will understand."

The two walked to the back of the study, and I couldn't understand their conversation anymore.

My head was spinning. Sure I had misheard; this was nothing but a misunderstanding. Fin would never lie at me. He would never... cheat on me?

I leant to the next wall, clutching my bow. Unbidden pictures entered my head; Lady Firinwë, smiling at Fin with that brilliant smile of hers, touching his arm in passing, whispering to him, kissing him, the two of them laughing... laughing about me?

Stop being a fool, Erestor, I chided myself, you are seeing things. It was most probably a completely harmless matter.

I did my best to ignore that nagging doubt in my heart and the little voice in my head that kept on telling me that the guilt in Fin's voice must have a reason, and stepped out into the garden.

A dark cloud settled on my mind. I felt melancholic. Nature was preparing to go to sleep, the cheerfulness of summer was gone, and maybe it was also this confrontation with the circle of life that made me shiver: the leaves were falling, withering away, soon to be nothing but dust under our feet, while a new life prepared to come into this world. A dangerous world it was, but also a beautiful one.

I put one hand on my stomach, and said: "Do not worry, my little Elfling, your Ada and I will take care of you. And in the next winter, we three will dance in the snow." I felt the baby lean into my touch, and despite everything, I smiled.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Master Melpomaen, one of Elrond's younger advisors, who came stomping up the path, fuming like a Balrog.

"Master Erestor! When is your Elfling due? Hopefully soon; one more day with this Lothlórien shrew, and another kin slaying can be added to the history books!"

"There, there, Melpomaen", I tried to soothe, "pray tell, what has happened?"

"Haven't you heard?" he howled, waving his hands in the air.

"She has ordered me to paint Lord Elrond's chambers!"

"Ai, but Melpomaen, a little bit of fresh colour can't do much harm," I answered, not really understanding how a pot of paint could make our usually so calm and well-mannered advisor lose his countenance.

"She is painting the chambers in PASTELS!" he cried, wringing his hands.

This was bad. Carrots and celery Elrond might have forgiven her, for Galadriel's sake. But pastels?

"Melpomaen, have you already tried to talk to Lady Firinwë about this? Maybe you could convince her to..."

"No disrespect, my lord," Melpomaen interrupted me, "but I really don't see the point of talking. Give me a sword, and I solve the problem in a few seconds."

I shook my head.

"Ai, Melpomaen, don't say such things, not even in jest!"

"Who says I was jesting?" Melpomaen growled. "Don't tell me you haven't considered this solution yourself at one time or the other."

I crinkled my nose, thinking of one bright sunny afternoon when I had walked in on Glorfindel and Lady Firinwë in the garden, supposedly "discussing the guard schedule". That evening, me and Fin had had a horrible fight. For the life of me I couldn't see of what benefit the making of flower-chains to decorate Lady Firinwë's hair was regarding the boarder guards.

"What do you two intend to do when the Orcs attack," I had screamed at Fin, "thwart them with daisies? Why not shoot them with cauliflower, would be more effective!"

"I could also use the pumpkin you have resting on your neck, Erestor!"

Despite this unpleasant memory and the uncomfortable conversation I'd overheard just a few minutes ago, I answered: "No, I most certainly haven't."

This was not really a lie, as I had indeed never thought of hunting down the most charming Lady Firinwë with a sword.

I was more thinking in the lines of bow and arrow ...

 

* * *

... Interlude – 3 months earlier ...

"Have you never made flower chains as an Elfling, my lady?" Fin asked, the chain of sweet-smelling roses slightly swinging on his index finger.

Lady Firinwë smiled.

"Sure I have, my lord - as you say: when I was an Elfling. But I am well past the age of flower-chains or equal silliness."

Fin rolled his eyes, ignored the protests of the beautiful lady from Lórien, and placed the flower chain on her head. He folded his arms, mustered his artwork and nodded.

"This is most becoming to your lovely face, my dear. And we have the duty to be silly, the older we get. If we don't oil those little wheels in our heads which make us do unwise and childish things, they start to rust and might as well squeak one day."

She joined in the laughter, and put her hand on his. He was splendid, this legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin - a warrior with the light heart of a child, a toy and a deadly weapon at the same time.

His reputation was legendary - she had never heard of another Elf who had been married and divorced five times. Their kind used to bond for life, and it hardly ever happened that a couple parted - and yet five times! She wondered what kind of demon was hunting Glorfindel, for that he must have one was clear to her, the knowledge only adding to the fascination.

And this aside, it could not be denied that he was certainly most handsome. Firinwë wasn't inexperienced in the art of love, an art she regarded as a game like the hunt, and she was a fine hunter, never letting a kill pass, and not even Lord Celeborn had been able to refuse her.

Lord Glorfindel was certainly a prey worth of her skills. She hardly wasted a thought on the pale, thin, ill looking Elf who hushed through the Last Homely House like a shadow, claiming to be Fin's mate - a pregnant male Elf, who had ever heard of such a thing!

Whatever Erestor was - he certainly couldn't be counted among the first born. Glorfindel probably enjoyed the novelty of it - and after all, he didn't have an heir. But at the end of the day, Erestor was a nuisance she would easily get rid of. She intended to offer her services as a guardian for the Elfling - once she had a hand on the cradle, she had a hand on Glorfindel's heart, and Erestor, who was not a dimwit, would see that there was no place for him here.

"Pray tell - what are you thinking about, my lady? You have a very smug smile on your lovely lips ..." Fin joked.

"Just - thinking of a game I enjoy playing, my lord."

"A game? Now that sounds more like fun - what game is it?"

She smiled dreamily.

"Ai - it's a very old game - as old as our kin. Shall I show you how to play it?"

Before Fin could answer, she had bowed forward, rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

Fin gave into the kiss. Maybe it was because of his surprise, maybe it was because old habits are the hardest to get rid off, but for a brief moment, he returned the kiss. When they parted, he well noticed the triumph in her eyes, and he frowned.

"My dear lady - you should not waste your favors on a good for nothing scoundrel like me." he said, and adding in a most serious tone: "A good for nothing scoundrel who has a mate he loves more than his life."

Firinwë shook her head.

"You can't be serious, Glorfindel. You are an Elf lord, your family is one of the oldest in Middle Earth. You are a hero and a legend - do not try to convince me that you intend to waste more time than necessary on this... abnormality."

Fin growled, and she shied back. The change in his face was scary - this was not the charming, always joking Fin anymore, this was Glorfindel of Gondolin, who had slain the Balrog. Flames were dancing in his eyes, and his hands pressed painful in her upper arms.

Before Fin could say something, an arrow shot the flower chain off of Firinwë's head. They both jumped up, Fin grabbing for his sword to fight off the attacker.

It was Erestor.

And by the Valar, Fin had never seen anyone more regal, beautiful and deadly as Erestor, clad in black, bow in hand, three crows hovering above his head, eyes dark with anger, enhancing the paleness of his skin. He didn't look at Fin; his eyes were focused on Firinwë, who was still shocked, staring at the flower chain which was nailed to a tree by Erestor's arrow.

"You look well suited, like you came to win," Erestor said, his voice completely calm, and all the more frightening.

"Erestor ..." Fin began, but Erestor cut him off with a simple gesture of his hand, not even looking at him.

He cocked his head, and pointed with his bow at Lady Firinwë.

"Do not touch my sweet prince."

With that, Erestor turned on his heel, and walked away.

Fin looked at Lady Firinwë, who had turned a paler shade of green.

"I apologize - I should not have been a willing participant in this game, even if it was for just a second. I beg your forgiveness for this weakness of mine, and I hope he will forgive me as well. But my lady," Fin continued, "do not dare ever, whether in my presence or not, to insult my beloved again. For by the Valar, should you dare to, you will find yourself in a situation where you will beg the Valar to have mercy and let you enter Mandos' Halls."

With that, he grabbed his cloak, and left the place, running after Erestor.

Lady Firinwë took a deep breath.

"Very well then," she said to herself, "back to Lord Elrond."

Being the Lady of Imladris was much more promising than being the 7th Mrs. Glorfindel, anyway.

* * *

I've had enough for one day, finished my walk and returned to our chambers. Glorfindel was already back, sitting at the desk, bowed over a document, writing. When I entered, he quickly opened the lid of the desk and hid the letter inside.

The nagging voice was back. What was he hiding from me? He was having secrets. Why? And more important: what?

"You are back, darling, thanks the Valar. I was getting worried."

He got up, and hugged me tight. Then he caressed my cheek, softly, so softly, and looked at me with an intensity I had never seen before.

"Please, do not go out anymore without me, my love. The woods are not safe anymore, and I am worried. So many things can happen, so quickly, and I can't bear the thought that any harm could befall you."

There was something in his voice - a desperation I hadn't known in him before, and it scared me. I felt like there was a door in his heart that I hadn't opened yet, and I feared what I might find there.

For Fin had changed. The closer the assumed date of the birth came, the more he got restless, and worried. Many nights, I woke up only to find him gone. In the beginning, I had been scared, even attempted to look for him, but Rabbit, who inexplicably always seemed to be where I was, had assured me that Fin was alright, and had answered my pleas to tell me where he was only with a vague gesture in direction of the woods.

What was it that drove Fin out of our home? What haunted him so much he didn't even dare to tell me? More than once I had fought with myself over whether or not to ask him, but there was something in his eyes which pleaded not to ask, and so I had never tackled the subject.

Right now, he nipped on my ear, and as usual, coherent thought fled me, so I decided to let the case rest for the moment, and gave in to his touch and scent and love.

* * *

The following day, I headed for the Healing House to suffer my weekly examination. With Elrond being busy, I was not exactly frolicking at the prospect of Elladan the Butcher Boy waiting with cold hands and a weakly suppressed lust to cut me open to still his thirst for knowledge, but alas, if I didn't go there willingly, Glorfindel, or worse, Mauburz would carry me to the Healing House. It had happened before, and I had no wish to see this embarrassing event repeated. This aside, Elladan was better than his reputation, and he was genuinely looking forward to our little Elfling.

Elladan was busy applying some kind of woodsy smelling ointment to a bruise on Orophin's back, and was happily chattering away, his gossiping only interrupted by agreeing growls from the Galadhrim, who looked rather smug.

I frowned. Coming to think of it, Orophin had managed to obtain quite a few bruises ever since he was here, and strangely enough his injuries always happened when Elladan was on duty in the Healing House. Was it ever possible that…?

But no. I shook my head and chided myself for being silly. Even the thought was too ridiculous. Or was it not?

My thoughts were interrupted by Elladan's light voice greeting me.

"Come in, Erestor, I shall be finished in a minute."

Elrond's heir wiped off his hand on a towel, and Orophin slipped back in his tunic.

"It should hurt less by this evening. If you should still feel any discomfort, just call again."

Orophin nodded, gave Elladan a look which was decidedly doting, bowed his head in my direction and then slipped out of the door, leaving me alone with my nemesis.

"Hop in the tin, sardine!" he quipped, and patted the examination bed.

I groaned.

"Elladan, the only thing you are worse in than healing is jesting."

He grinned, far away from being offended.

"Aw, I love you too, Erestor. Just wait, once your Elfling is born, you will have become so used to my presence you will spend your nights weeping because you miss me so much."

I rolled my eyes, sat on the bed and started to unbutton my tunic, while Elladan washed his hands in the small basin on the wall and happily hummed a tune.

The melody triggered something; a memory, distant, like fading fog on an autumn morning.

"I know this melody - what song is this?" I asked.

Elladan giggled.

"Oh, it is just a silly ditty Glorfindel used to sing to us when we were wee Elflings," he replied over his shoulder, "do you know it? I have forgotten the lyrics, something about horses ..."

"Yes," I answered, "yes, I have heard it before ..."

* * *

Flashback Erestor

"Now come here, there is no reason to be shy, and I heard you quite a while ago."

The warrior sat under a beech in the grass and was carving on a piece of wood - an occupation which he interrupted now to wave the small Elfling closer to him.

Erestor kept on plucking the leaves off the flowers he had collected, unsure on how to proceed. His nana finally gave him a small pat on the backside, and shooed the child forward.

"Now be a good boy and go over to the kind lord, Erestor - it is impolite to just stand and stare. And maybe you can cheer the poor dear up."

She gave the Elf under the beech a friendly nod, and continued to collect the brambleberries in her wicker basket, secretly relieved to have her youngest out of her braids for a few minutes.

The warrior started carving again, and finally, Erestor's curiosity won the battle over his shyness, and he hesitantly walked over to the figure clad in blue under the tree.

For a while, the child just stood there and watched.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"Carving," the Elf answered.

"What?"

"A horse."

"It is nice."

"Well, thank you, young master Elf, I am glad to hear you like this exquisite work of art."

The warrior gave Erestor a smile, and the Elfling lost a bit of his shyness. But my, this Elf was tall! Taller than Ada, who already looked like a giant to 6 year old Erestor. He was quite happy the warrior was not standing right now, for he sure must be an intimidating sight.

"I like horses." Erestor finally said. Due to the two missing front teeth, it sounded more like "hodded", but the Elf seemed to understand it, anyway.

"Now, who doesn't," he commented.

"My sister."

"Your sister doesn't like horses? Now how can that be."

"She is stupid."

The warrior suppressed a smile, remembering his own "fondness" for his older sister millennia back.

"Now, now. I am sure she is very nice."

"No. She pulls my braids."

"Yes, I guess that's one of the less favorable activities sisters tend to indulge in, and I am most afraid, young master Elf, that you will have to grin and bear it. Pray to the Valar she gets married soon, that's the only thing you can do."

Erestor didn't really understand what his braids had to do with his sister's marriage; secretly he doubted any Elf would be stupid enough to marry his sister. But he was watching with increasing fascination how the sharp knife of the warrior cut into the soft wood, the rough form of the animal becoming defined more and more, finally taking the shape of a steed.

"Pray tell, penneth, what is your name?" the warrior asked, without looking up.

"Erestor."

"Is this your given mother's name?"

"Mhm."

"She chose wisely."

The warrior gave a short bow, mocking the greetings among nobles, and said; "Most pleased to meet you, young master Erestor. I am Lord Glorfindel, chief of the House of the Golden Flower, but special friends, like you, may call me Fin."

"Fin!"

Erestor giggled.

"Fin! Fin! Fin! I like that!"

"I am most pleased to hear you approve of my name."

He gave the child a warm smile, then he said:

"If you like horses, you sure know this song, Erestor:

'Horsey, Horsey, don't you stop  
Just let your feet go clipity clop  
Your tail goes swish  
And the wheels go round  
Giddy up, we're homeward bound'"

Erestor nodded eagerly.

"Yes, I know it! Nana sings it when I go to sleep! Sing again!"

"Your wish is my order!"

Glorfindel's light voice carried through the wood, and Erestor clapped his hands, smashing the flowers he had previously collected. For a while, the child just sat in the grass, watching the carving to process and listening to Glorfindel humming.

Finally, the warrior put the knife back in its sheath, watched his work critically, then he handed it over to Erestor.

"Here, penneth - that's for you. It shall serve as a substitute till the time comes you will get your own mount."

The Elfling stared first at Glorfindel, then at the wooden horse with absolute amazement.

"My horse? For me?"

Glorfindel laughed.

"Yes, penneth, for you - just promise me not to hit your sister with it, will you."

Erestor took the horse, and clutched in tightly to his chest.

"Oh thank you! Thank you - Fin!" he added, and beamed up to the warrior, who smiled back.

Erestor was still only a wee Elfling, but he already recognized the sadness behind this smile, and he felt a pang of guilt - maybe the kind Elven lord had carved the horse for somebody else and only gave it to him now because he wanted to be polite?

"And I can keep it? Really?" he asked, "don't you have your own Elfling who would like it?"

Never in his short life had Erestor seen sadness like the one that was now apparent on the warrior's face. Glorfindel ruffled his hair, and gently stroked his cheek.

"No, my little pixie - I have no little Elfling."

Resting his large hand on the child's shoulder, he added;

"Not anymore."

With that, he got up, and, giving the little one a last smile, disappeared in the woods.

* * *

I quickly slipped off the bed.

"Wait, I haven't finished yet!" Elladan protested.

"I know - I am sorry, penneth, I need to check on something, and it is urgent."

With that, I buttoned my tunic back up, and hasted out of the room, running back to the Last Homely House and up the stairs to my chambers, taking three steps on once.

Back in my study, I knelt down by a small chest, holding the few belongings my mother had managed to pack for me when I had to flee Gondolin, leaving my ada, nana, my sister and my home behind, not knowing back then that I would never see them again, becoming a refugee without roots like so many of my kin. I had never dared to look into this chest ever since - too painful were the memories connected with its content.

But now I flipped the lid of the chest open without a second thought, rummaging through books, illuminations, some jewelry, till I finally, in the left bottom corner, found what I had been looking for.

I held the small bundle for a moment and took a deep breath. Then I gently freed the object from its protective hull, a green baby's blanket with embroidery of yellow and red flowers.

In my hand, small now, and dark with age, lay a beautifully carved horse.

"Fin." I whispered, and pressed the toy to my heart.

"Dear, dear Fin."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of the birth, Erestor disappears - will Glorfindel find him in time? Erestor meets up with a very special person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

"How about 'Lúthien'?"

"No."

"'Arwen'?"

"Forget it."

"'Melanthia'?"

"'Dark flower'? What if she's a blonde?"

"Then we shall call her 'Galadriel'."

"Are you insane?"

"You are most difficult to please, my heart."

"Fin - by the Valar, for the last time: it might as well be a male. And you must admit that being called 'Galadriel' could be a tad bit embarrassing or our son."

"But she has a very masculine walk."

"Oaf."

"Old crow."

"Can I expect any kind of intelligent name suggestions, or shall I take this matter at hand myself?"

"Mauburz thinks nice name for nice lords' wee baby Elfling be 'Rupert the Naggler'. Good name."

"Rupert the Naggler?!?"

"Yes. Very good name for wee baby Elfling. Would be first Elf called Rupert."

No doubt.

"My dear Mauburz, I delight in the prospect of introducing my son, Rupert the Naggler, to my friends. And how I will enjoy our daily life in future - 'Rupert! Finish your breakfast Lembas! Rupert! Your chamber needs to be tidied!"

Fin laughed, and I shook my head. At the pace this discussion was processing, our poor wee Elfling would be old enough to choose a name him- or herself by the time we had come to an agreement.

Our resident Orc crossed her arms over her impressive bosom and showed signs of sulking.

"Mauburz still thinks Rupert is nice name. If not like it, you can take 'Montague'. Very nice name, too."

At this point, I decided it was time to leave the shop, tucked secretly on Fin's sleeve and we bid our farewell to Mauburz, who was still suggesting one "very nice" Orcish name after the other.

I slowly started to understand why Orcs always were in a bad mood.

When we stepped out in the fresh air, Fin said: "But you must admit, Brünhyldë' would be a formidable name for our daughter!"

"Next time you get pregnant and suffer through 10 months of agony, then you can call our offspring any name you like," I growled.

Fin hugged me, and planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you, oh sun of my life. So Brünhyldë it shall be!"

We made a beeline for Master Elfar's carpenter shop. Fin had ordered the furniture for the nursery, as usual without consulting me first, and he refused to tell me anything about it, claiming it to be a 'surprise'. But now, with only a week or so to go till the birth, he decided to show me what our future Elfling's little nest would look like. As a long-time connoisseur de bon surprises Fin I braced myself for a nightmare in pink, laces and lavender bows.

"Ai, yer lordships! How good ta see ya!"

Elfar greeted Fin, and bowed his head in my direction with a friendly smile. Elfar, like me and Fin, was a Gondolin refugee, though way older than us, had never given up his thick accent and was a master in the art of carving.

Unfortunately, he also had a great skill in the art of drinking, a talent which interfered at times with his work, but once he started on a piece, his mind was focused on this task only, and he had, over the centuries, created some of the most beautiful furniture in Rivendell, among them Elrond's bed, Arwen's vanity and the house for Elladan's dog.

"How is the work processing, Master Elfar?" Fin asked.

"Ai, I'm almost done, if yer lordships care ta follow me to ta workshop, I shall show ya my work."

He led the way to the back of the shop, and I inhaled deeply the scent of wood and resin. My father had been a carpenter by trade, too, and this scent always reminded me of my childhood days.

In the middle of the room, an object, covered by a white linen sheet to keep the dust away, stood on a work bench. With an elegant move, Elfar tore the sheet off, a bit like a wizard who reveals the rabbit in his hat and before us stood one of the most beautiful artworks I had ever seen.

It was a swinging cradle, made out of honey oak, with beautiful ornaments of leaves and berries on the front, ranking around the arms of The House of the Golden Flower and The House of the Circling Raven. The headboard, however, was topped by a masterfully carved crow, holding something in its beak. When I stepped closer, I saw that it was a small basket with blackberries.

I was deeply touched, turned around and hugged Fin.

"Oh Fin - this is so beautiful! I wish I was an Elfling myself, so I could sleep in this gem!"

He laughed, and gently hugged me back, the mushy scenery observed by Master Elfar, who obviously was delighted that his work had found so thorough an appreciation.

"I thought, well ..." Fin said, and shuffled his feet, "...the blackberries symbolize the time when I was pining after you and you were too heartless and dense to notice ..."

I whacked him gently behind his ears.

"You could have sped up the process by not leaving dead Wargs on my bed, Fin."

"The Warg was not from me, my dear", he grinned, "all credit for this tasteful present goes to Master Fenrir."

I groaned.

"Why am I cursed with suitors who have no idea how to charm an Elf?" I whined, and Fin hugged me again, placing a quick peck on my cheek.

"Because you are such a beast, that's why. Would you like to stay here and see the other things Master Elfar has created for our Elfling? I have to hurry or I will be late for my meeting with Elrond."

He didn't mention Lady Firinwë, something I was most grateful for, and I nodded.

"Sure, I would love to see what other gems are waiting for me", I said, and Fin blew me a kiss, turned on his heel and left the shop.

When the door shut close behind him, I returned my attention back to Master Elfar, who was beaming with pride on his craftsmanship.

"I am most pleased to hear ya like ta cradle, Master Erestor", he said, polishing the wood lovingly with a rag, "and if I may say so, me wife and I are looking very much forward to see young life again in ta Last Homely House."

"You are very kind, Master Elfar", I replied, still gazing at the beautiful cradle.

He kept on polishing, explaining how he had spent days to find the right wood and where he got the wax to polish the piece from. I nodded, hearing my ada talk, who had always presented me for my begetting days with wonderful toys like a rocking horse or small carved animals.

"Ai, Master Erestor,'t is the second cradle I made for Lord Glorfindel, and I hope it won't be the last!"

My head shot up, and I stared at the other Elf.

"The second cradle? Why - has he ordered another one?"

Elfar paled visibly, fiddled with the rag and stuttered: "Did I say second? I beg yer pardon, Master Erestor, t' was only a slip of speech, no, of course not, why would one need two cradles,'t is just this one, dear lord, my apologies, I was speaking about ta bed I plan to carve for yer wee Elfling once ta wee one has grown out of ta cradle."

He quickly hasted to the next room, and I followed him, admiring the delicate furniture for the nursery, but at the same time I had the feeling that something important had happened, that I had missed crucial information.

I sighed. It was about time the wee one was born and things could go back to normality.

* * *

Halfway on back to the Last Homely House, I sat down on a big stone by the gardens. Walking or any kind of movement had become increasingly exhausting, my back and my legs hurt, and so I decided to rest a little before I returned to our chambers to take a nap.

It was not until a few moments later that I heard muffled giggling.

I looked around, but couldn't see anybody close by. Had I misheard?

I shook my head, and made to get up when I heard the giggling again.

This time there was no doubt: somebody sat behind me in the bushes and giggled.

With a quick move, I stuck my arm up to my shoulder in the shrubbery, grabbed for the squirming life form I found there and dragged it out of the bush.

It was Elrohir. A very embarrassed Elrohir, looking ruffled, with leaves in his hair, tunic open and cheeks flushed crimson.

Surprised, I let go of his collar, and looked at him disapprovingly.

"Elrohir! What nonsense is this! How long will we have to endure your fruitless hunt for your imagined intruder?" I barked, and he stared at the tips of his boots, kicking a pebble in the go.

"This is a most undignified behaviour for a son of Lord Elrond, Elrohir. Have you forgotten all I taught you? I demand this stops now. You are becoming the laughing stock of Rivendell."

Elrohir still didn't answer, but looked back over his shoulder every other second, obviously very nervous.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Elrohir," I said in a milder voice, "believe me when I say that there is nothing in the bushes."

"Ahem ... actually, this is not quite correct, Master Erestor ..." said a voice from behind Elrohir, and when I looked over his shoulder, I saw a pretty Elf maid emerging from the bushes. She was clad in greens and browns, and there were leaves and red berries sticking in her auburn hair.

Elrohir turned even more crimson than before, and started to fiddle around with his belt, while I gasped for breath and tried to win back my composition.

"Elrohir!" I finally boomed, and tried to look intimidating, which was no easy task considering my baby gut, but I did the best I could.

"Who is this, and what is she doing in the bushes? And, even more importantly, what are YOU doing there?"

Elrond's youngest cleared his throat, and loosened his collar.

"Master Erestor, this is Lady Eldanorien. Lady Eldanorien, this is Master Erestor."

The girl stood up, and curtsied.

"Very pleased to meet you", she said, not shy at all.

"I wish I could say the same, my lady", I growled, and, directing Elrohir again: "I am still waiting to hear your explanation, Elrohir, alas with an ever growing impatience."

He shrugged.

"Ai... we met when I was scouting along the border to Mirkwood... her father doesn't like us much, what with the whole Oropher-incident and Gil-galad and everything... she came to see me, fell in the bushes and got a bruise, so I got some of Ada's ointment..."

He broke off, setting his jaw defensively.

"I was only trying to help!" he said, and pouted.

"Elrohir", I said, "I hope you are not trying to convince me that you and Lady Eldanorien have spent the last four months sitting in the bushes of the Last Homely House treating her bruises! Do you deem me a fool?"

The girl stepped in front of Elrohir, as if to protect him. She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at me.

"What is wrong with sitting in bushes? I am a Woodland Elf - we like plants!"

"This, my dear," I replied, "is more a case of fruits than of plants. Does your father know you are here?"

She looked a little guilty.

"I always told him I went to visit my aunt, but I came here to see Elrohir."

She gave him an adoring smile, and he smiled back equally doting, taking her hand in his, and then gave me a pleading look.

"Please, Master Erestor - don't tell ada! He will be very mad at me, and certainly forbid us to see each other!"

Seeing my reluctance, Elrohir got out the big weapons, made puppy eyes, batted his lashes and even added The Quivering Under lip, which beat me every time, so I sighed and gave in.

"Alright, Elrohir. But I insist that, if you are serious about this, you will talk to your father when the time comes. If you truly care about her, you must also have the courage to stand up for your love."

Elrohir nodded, and, pointing at the Elf maid, I said: "And this goes also for you and your father, young lady."

Elrohir hugged me, which he hadn't done in a long time.

"Thank you so much, Master Erestor. Ada - I love him dearly, and I trust him, please do not doubt this, but - he is so formal, he would never understand that we are - bushing."

I had to hide a grin, and waved the two culprits off.

"Off, off, you annoying Elflings, before I change my mind!"

They both smiled at me, then disappeared in the shrubbery again.

And I walked back to the Last Homely House, remembering quite lividly an incident involving Elrond, Gil-Galad, a hazel bush and a completely shocked Thrandúil, who had interrupted whatever actions had been in process.

Maybe Lord Elrond was a hopeless case when playing Toblero - but when it came to bushing, he was an expert.

* * *

They days passed by. The date Elrond had calculated as the one for the birth was approaching, and my level of nervousness was reaching new heights. I had nightmares, dreamed of all the things that could go wrong during birth, started awake more than once bathed in sweat, and it took Fin hours to sooth and calm me down. It didn't escape me, though, that he was at unease as well, and he consulted Elrond on a twice-daily basis to ask if there was any news.

He also tried to talk to Rabbit, but our wild thing was most unhelpful.

"This is Erestor's business. You let him do what needs to be done, and everything will be good." he used to say, and neither pleading nor shouting from Fin's part could change his mind.

I asked Haldir how Rabbit had treated him when Bramble had been on the way, and the Galadhrim frowned, trying to remember.

"Let me see"; he said, and counted on his fingers, "he bit me four or five times, then there was the day when he broke my arm - it was an accident, though - he smashed my nose twice - again, not with intend - and yes, there were a couple of bruises, too. Oh yes, and a broken collarbone."

I snickered, and Fin swallowed hard.

"Haldir, no disrespect meant, but I have to ask: what attracts you so much to Rabbit?"

Haldir shrugged, and his face took on a dreamy expression.

"Oh, there are many things - but his most endearing features are his kind spirit and gentle nature."

Later, when we sat in the bath, I talked with Fin about it, and he suggested I should wear a muzzle for the time being.

I whacked him with a washing cloth.

I loved the water, I felt so light and my poor back got a rest. Fin giggled, then he stared at my stomach, and frowned.

"Darling, did you hurt yourself?"

I cocked an eyebrow.

"No, why do you ask?"

He traced a finger over my abdomen, and I moved away, feeling sore, and it was a most unpleasant sensation.

"There is a welt or a scratch, I can't really tell. You need to show Elrond, love."

Ah.

"Fin, it's not a scratch. That's where our Elfling will come out soon - I hope."

He gave me a most puzzled look.

"There? You mean - out of your belly?"

"Of course. What did you think?"

Fin looked rather sheepish, and I suddenly knew what he had been thinking.

"Fin! By the Valar! Where do you get these ideas from?" I cried, and shook my head.

He shrugged.

"What do I know about these things - I have to admit, though, that I really prefer this way. I had some ... rather disturbing theories."

I gave him a stern look.

"Fin. Whatever you do: do not share these theories with me."

He grinned, and kissed my belly button.

"No, darling. I shall discuss them during the next council. These meetings are always so boring."

This didn't leave me any other option but grabbing for his braids and dipping him under water.

* * *

Everybody was waiting eagerly for the birth - not only because most residents were looking honestly forward to the new life that would arrive soon, but also because the arrival of our Elfling meant the departure of Lady Firinwë, who had developed from a nuisance into a full blown crisis.

She hadn't stopped at painting Elrond's chambers in pastels. She obviously also thought that Elrond's bed needed some new accessories, like, for example, her own illustrious persona, and for the last month she had done her best and worst to wrap our Lord around her finger and in her net.

It was difficult to tell if her efforts bore any fruits. We all knew that Elrond was lonely, but he had loved his wife very, very much, and was missing her a lot - it would take a special Elf to take her place, and we all prayed to the Valar that "special" meant "kind, gentle, loving, loyal", not "Lady Firinwë".

Her tactics were clever, I had to admit. It was as if she was reading his mind (and knowing her, I wouldn't put that beyond her): when he felt thirsty, she came running with a glass of sweetest wine, when he felt a pang of hunger, she turned up with a platter of fruits, and while we all got the sharp side of her tongue, she was honey and roses around him, smiling and flirting. Her cleavage expanded exponentially to the length of her visits in Elrond's study, and she had taken to "incidentally" touch him when she passed by.

It was sickening.

We found it increasingly difficult to stay at least courteous, and Mauburz didn't even try. When Firinwë turned up at the shop to buy Elrond's massage oil, which our Orc mixed together especially for him ("Nuits sensuelles"), Mauburz growled at her and let her know that "Mauburz not sells nothing to stoopid Elf lady looking like bloated goose."

Lady Liritar, one of Thrandúil's daughters, turned up daily to deliver her reports on the developments in the Last Homely bedchamber. She was, thanks to her ability to hide behind tapestries and lurk under tables as well as a deep affection she harboured for Lord Elrond, my most trusted spy when it came to all things personal regarding our much loved lord, and she supplied me with tales of unspeakable horrors.

"Ai, Master Erestor" she said, wringing her hands, "he is talking about keeping her here! Lord Elrond mentioned what a great help the lady was, and how he enjoyed her company!"

She almost cried, and I admit that I was close to losing my composition as well.

"This is entirely your fault, Master Erestor", Liritar said, looking at me accusingly, "you said I was not allowed to throw her in the Bruinen!"

"This is not quite correct, my child"; I replied, "I never said you should not throw her in the Bruinen, I only said you are not allowed to drown her. By now I think a little bath could only be helpful to cool her temper."

I was pacing up and down my study, thinking of a way to get rid of the Lórien nuisance, and finally stopped my restless wandering to look out of the window. I had a beautiful view on a rarely visited part of the garden. Not much care was taken on the bushes and plants which grew there, it was a place of the past, holding the grave of Estel's mother, and a statue of Gil-galad. Elrond often wandered this part of the garden alone, dwelling in the past, and we respected his wish for privacy and solitude.

The statue of Gil Galad.

Of course.

Why hadn't I thought of this before.

I turned on my heel, and looked at Liritar, who chewed on one of her braids.

"My dear Lady Liritar," I said, "wouldn't it be about time to show Lady Firinwë Lord Elrond's Gil-galad-thimble-collection? As she seems to be an Elf of great taste and keen on redecorating the Last Homely House, she would surely appreciate it to be allowed a peek at these - gems."

Liritar looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

"Lord Elrond's thimble collection? Why - but you know it is absolutely prohibited to even get near the glass cupboard!"

I laughed, and rubbed my hands gleefully.

"Ai, Liritar - but we really should not keep Lady Firinwë away from sharing Lord Elrond's greatest treasures. As she obviously has set her mind on becoming the new lady of Imladris, it is nothing but fair if she learns what is part of the deal."

An evil grin spread over Liritar's face.

"Master Erestor - I bow in awe in front of your wisdom. Lord Elrond chose wisely when he made you his chief advisor. And ada was so right when he said you were a snake."

Before I could comment on this compliment and express my feelings for King Thrandúil, she bowed, and sped out of the door, and I heard her whistle in the corridor.

There could be no doubt: Mirkwood had just declared war on Lothlórien.

* * *

It was a short-lived war - it ended the very same afternoon.

Words like these had never been heard in the halls of the Last Homely House. Words which would have made a Balrog blush. Mothers were covering the ears of their children, maidens fainted and Liritar and I were shaking hands, slapping each other's back and congratulating ourselves on our cunningness.

We hastily rushed out of the library and ran down the stairs as fast as my condition allowed, robes flying behind us, for we would have never forgiven ourselves if we had missed the exorcism of Lady Firinwë.

The whole court was gathered in the great hall when Elrond came storming down the stairs, one of Lady Firinwë's bags under each arm and carrying hold-alls in his hands, cursing and swearing like a Gondorian border guard.

He was followed by a much distressed Lady Firinwë, who wrung her hands and tried to stop him, as well as by Orophin and Rúmil, who snickered and carried more bags. BuBu was completing the procession, barking like crazy.

"Elrond ... please ... Rondy ...!" the lady cried, but Elrond didn't even slow down his stride.

"Don't you 'Rondy' me!!! Out! Out! You evil spirit of denseness! Leave my house, now, and you shall not return as long as I dwell here!" he howled, and kicked the main door open with such power that the door sprang out of its hinges.

"I only tried to make the Last House homelier, Elrond!" she whined, but Elrond had already thrown the bags out in the courtyard, and was now turning around, hair flying, eyes ablaze, not being the wise lord of Imladris any more, but the fierce warrior and Herald to the High King of the days of old.

He looked like he was 8 feet tall, and the Lady shrank almost into the ground when he pointed at her, contempt in his voice.

"There are many rules our kin have to follow, laws which shall not be broken and promises which must be held. I shall not mention oaths. But there is one law above all in this house whose breach I shall never tolerate," he said, and his face was now only an inch away from the one of the terrified Elven lady, "and that is: Thou. Shalt. Not. Touch. My. Thimbles."

He emphasized every word by poking at her shoulder with his finger, and he gave her The Eyebrow.

Finally, he straightened up, and said to Orophin and Rúmil: "Wrap this mess here up and escort her back to Lothlorien. Give Galadriel my regards, and if she has any complaints, she can tell the trees, for I don't care."

With that, he rushed majestically away.

"Right. Fine. I shall return to Lothlórien - it was not my intend to stay among you barbarians, anyway," Lady Firinwë snorted.

"BuBu, come here, we are leaving these peasants."

The rat-sized dog sat on the last step of the stairs, and eyed her thoughtfully.

"BuBu! Come to mommy!" she beckoned.

The dog yawned, then he walked over to the place where Bramble sat on the floor, hopped on the little girl's lap and rolled up in a furry ball, sighing contently.

"Peasants." Lady Firinwë said, "Nothing but peasants."

With that, she left.

We all broke out in spontaneous applause.

* * *

~~~INTERLUDE ~~~

Orophin found Elladan in the Healing House, busy mixing some herbs together in a bowl. When he noticed the Galadhrim, he asked: "Fallen from a tree? Kicked by a horse?"

The Lórien Elf shook his head.

"Nay, Elladan. I came to bid my fare wells. Rúmil and I are leaving, escorting Lady Firinwë back to Lothlórien."

"Oh", Elladan said, and he knew it was not very intelligent, but he didn't really know how to voice this sudden feeling of loss at the prospect of seeing Orophin leave.

For a while, the ancient guardian of the woods and Elrond's clumsy offspring looked at each other, none of them knew what to say. Finally, Elladan cleared his throat, and muttered:

"I hope it shall not be centuries again before our paths cross, Orophin."

The Galadhrim shook his head.

"Nay - I shall return soon. Lord Glorfindel has asked me to become Guardian to his heir."

"You?" Elladan stared at Orophin with eyes like saucers.

"Ai. Why are you surprised, penneth? I have been your guardian, too, and your brother's, have you already forgotten this?

"No. It is just ... I find it so very hard to see you as my guardian anymore, Orophin", Elladan stuttered, and promptly dropped the bowl, which shattered in a thousand pieces on the stone floor.

They both crouched down at the same moment to pick up the shards, and their eyes met. Elladan had one of his days again, wearing two different clasps on his braids. Orophin smiled secretly. How enchanting.

"If you do not see your guardian anymore, who do you see then?"

Elladan took up a lovely darker shade of crimson, and fiddled around with the shards of the bowl, avoiding Orophin's piercing stare.

"I don't know, it's not important, please forget I mentioned it."

Orophin carefully put the shards he had already collected aside, and reached out, gently running the back of his hand down Elladan's cheek. The young Elf looked up in surprise, he didn't understand what was happening here, but he didn't move away from the touch, either, there was just this wide-eyed amazement about Orophin's action.

"I hope that you, one day, will know what you see. Namarie, penneth," Orophin said, bent forward and pressed a soft kiss on Elladan's forehead.

Then he left, and Elladan still sat on the floor, holding the shards of the bowl in his hand, then dropped them carelessly, ran his fingers over the spot on his cheek Orophin had touched him and closed his eyes.

For a long time, Elladan just sat in the dark.

* * *

I stood on the balcony, and watched the sky. A storm was coming, I could smell it in the air and feel it in my blood, and I felt something else, a stirring, a dull pain from my abdomen, and I felt restlessness. I had walked up and down my study all afternoon, feeling like a caged animal, and I longed for the woods, wanted to get away from all those visitors, gathering in Imladris to satisfy their curiosity and see the "miracle Elf".

It was hot. Unbearably hot. Why this? It was supposed to be cold. But I could hardly breathe, the air was stifling, I tore open my collar, and a new wave of pain made me gasp.

There were voices coming from the great hall, muffled by the door, but they disturbed me greatly, I wanted, no, I needed the quiet, solitude. I started to pace again, my skin itching from the heat, the pain increasing, and finally, I couldn't bear it anymore, took my blue cloak and quickly slipped out of the door, stepped down the stairs which lead to the garden on the back of the Last Homely House, and was finally out in the fresh air.

It called to me. I heard it. The wood, I was part of it, and when the first raindrops fell, I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sky, accepting the gift, and a longing I couldn't ignore took me over, a longing to run, run, to the end of the world and time and beyond.

* * *

Fin returned in the evening. He was a little late, as he had searched all of Imladris for strawberries. Erestor loved them, and he wanted to surprise his lover, who had looked awfully tired and worn these last days.

Truth be told, Fin felt a pang of guilt when he thought of Erestor. He knew he should have told his partner about his son, but he just couldn't bring himself to touch the subject. Fin was scared - what if Erestor decided he wasn't worthy to be a father? What if he left him? The prospect of ever being separated from Erestor was something Fin couldn't handle. He had never felt such a strong feeling of belonging to somebody as with Elrond's black haired advisor, and maybe he had known right from the beginning that Erestor would be his true love, otherwise he wouldn't have spent centuries on wooing the stubborn Elf.

He was a little surprised when he entered their chambers and found all windows wide open, the rain, driven by the wind, had left puddles on the floor, and Erestor was nowhere in sight. Fin quickly checked the chambers, and found the blue cloak gone, too.

Puzzled, he left the study. If Erestor had taken the cloak, had he left the house? But no, this was not possible. There was a storm outside, and Erestor would have never endangered their Elfling by going out in such a night.

Fin searched the house from top to bottom, alerting everybody, and finally, Elrond sent out his guards to comb through the garden, fearing Erestor might have fallen somewhere, or fainted, but there was nothing, no sign, not a footprint, and Fin started to panic. Where was Erestor?

By now, the storm was roaring with a terrifying might, but this didn't keep Fin away from searching. Maybe Erestor had left a note somewhere?

Fin looked under the bed, on the night table, he turned every paper in Erestor's study, and when he couldn't find a note, he hastened to the library, hoping to find something, anything, which would tell him where Erestor was.

Fin rummaged through the desk, but all he found were historical scrolls and some letters. He looked up when he heard a thud behind him, turned quickly, but could see nothing but a book that had dropped off a shelf, so he kept on going through the papers.

Thud. Another book fell down.

Thud. Another.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Fin stood frozen on the spot, watching how one book after the other fell off of the shelf, one by one, the whole row, like pushed by an invisible hand. An eerie feeling crawled up his spine, and he made a hesitant step towards the shelves.

There was only one book left standing.

Something told Fin that he had witnessed something most extraordinary, and that this book was of importance, so he took the ancient tome, and it seemed to open in his hands all by itself.

It was about the life and habits of the animals of the forest.

"It is in their nature. They hide. They need to be alone. So they find a hidden place to bear their young ones."

A hidden place to bear their young ones. Of course. Erestor's ancestor had been of Rabbit's kin.

Fin was half crazy with worry, the thought of Erestor being out in the woods, alone in this storm, almost too much to bear for him. He ran through the rain to the stables, saddled Asfaloth and sped out only minutes later into the woods as fast as the horse could manage.

Erestor was out there, and he needed help, Fin could feel it, and he would save his mate or die trying.

* * *

An hour later Fin had to admit that he had gotten lost. The rain was falling down so tightly and heavily that he could hardly see the hand in front of his eyes; it was like a heavy grey curtain had veiled his way. The temperature had dropped even more, the ground had turned into a sticky muddy mass, and he had lost orientation. Fin had called for Erestor till he had no voice anymore, but there was no answer, nothing. Fin's tears started to mix with the rain.

He was soaked to his bones, tired, and desperate. Erestor, dear, darling Erestor, where are you, he asked himself over and over again while he tried to find some point of orientation in the wood. The trees, which he had always regarded as friends and allies, seemed hostile now, their branches reaching out to grab and scratch him, and when one branch tore the sleeve of his tunic, he didn't even notice. He was only driven by his worry and love for Erestor.

Suddenly, there was a light. Fin couldn't make out what it was, but it was a light, like from a lantern, dancing in front of him.

"Hello? Is anybody here?" he shouted against the storm, but there was no answer, only the dancing light.

Fin decided that small hope was better than no hope and to follow the light. The path in front of him was grown over with bushes and shrubbery, and there was no way Asfaloth could get through. Fin descended his mount and led the horse under a huge oak tree.

"No need we both get soaking wet, my friend," he said, and the horse nodded.

"I shall go and look for my darling Erestor, and you shall wait here for my return."

The horse hollered, and Fin followed the light which danced in front of him, almost impatiently, through the wood. He went for what seemed like hours, his soaked clothes clung ice cold to his skin, but Fin didn't care, all he thought of was Erestor, who was somewhere out here, alone, in danger, and the fear drove him forward. He neither noticed the cold wind nor the scratches the branches of small trees and thorns of berry bushes applied to his skin. He kept on walking, repeating Erestor's name over and over, like a prayer, and finally, the light halted in front of the entrance of a cave, half hidden by a blackberry bush.

Fin hastily climbed up the small hill, and finally stood in a cave. The metallic scent of blood hung in the air, and the bitter smell of fear. The small light was dancing over a body hunched up in a corner, gave one final bright flash and then extinguished.

Fin didn't have the time to consider this strange incident, or wonder where the light had come from, he hurried over to the corner and knelt down beside the lifeless figure on the cold stone floor, shaking Erestor and shouting at him to stop playing pranks, stroking his face and kissing him, but there was no reaction, no sound, and when Fin's lips touched Erestor's pale ones, he finally realized that his beloved was not breathing anymore.

A feral scream he didn't know he was capable off escaped Fin's throat, the eerie sound carrying through the woods, humbling the wind, the howling scaring the farmers close by, who closed the windows and locked the doors, praying to the gods to have mercy with the lost soul who was wailing his mourning out in the dark night.

* * *

The garden was beautiful - even more than it had been in my memory, but then, I was but a wee Elfling when I last walked in it, and though this garden had been destroyed millennia ago, together with all other things fair and good in Gondolin, I didn't find it odd that I was walking on these familiar paths now.

It was a beautiful summer day, birds were singing, and a mild breeze tucked on my braids. I felt light and cheerful, and the Elves I met on my way through the garden greeted me friendly and respectfully. A good place, I thought, a place where a troubled soul could find some peace, and peace was all I wanted right now.

A couple of minutes later, I passed a group of young Elves, gathered on soft blankets under a tree. A very fair young one was resting his head on the lap of a beautiful maiden, while two others laughed and joked with him. He gave a quick and obviously witty reply, for the group broke out in laughter, the cheerful sound carrying through the air like bells.

When they saw me, they waved, and I waved back, smiling. The young one, who was the centre of attention and, if I judged the blushing maidens gathered around him correctly, also the centre of attraction, perked up when he saw me, and beckoned me to come closer.

So I left the path, and strolled over the juicy green grass to the small group.

"My dear Erestor - what in Elbereth's name are you doing here?" the young one called, shaking his head disapprovingly.

I was taken aback, and frowned. "Do we know, young master Elf? I can't remember that I have made your acquaintance in the past."

He rolled his eyes, and then he turned to his friends.

"My darlings, be good little maids and leave us alone for a minute, will you? I have some matters of great importance to discuss with advisor Erestor."

He clapped his hands, and the females got up, pouting and sulking, quite unwilling to leave the beautiful Elf out of their hands, but retreating nevertheless, walking over to a small gazebo close by.

"Ai, females - aren't they just the greatest gift the Valar have graced us with?"

I thought briefly of Lady Firinwë and felt a mad desire to disagree, but decided to keep quiet and, when the other patted on the empty space beside him, sat down, gracefully, noting that this was an easy task, as my figure was slight and slim again, just the way it had been before Fin had turned me into a black-haired blob.

Now, sitting so close by my strange new friend, I took the time to look him over carefully.

He was young, hardly past his majority, I assumed, with dark blond hair, loosely held together by a simple blue velvet band, and clad in a blue tunic and black breeches. He was very fair of face, with noble features, but what made him so outstanding was the brightness of his eyes - they were blue, but still radiated a warmth and gentleness which made his whole face shine with an inner light.

"Who are you?" I finally asked, feeling a little uncomfortable under his openly mustering look.

He grinned. A cheeky grin, and one which struck a chord in my heart, reminding me of somebody, but I couldn't place whom.

"Ai, my apologies for my manners - I forgot we haven't been introduced properly yet. My name is Luinil. Have you heard of me?"

He looked at me expectantly, and I combed my memory for the name. Luinil... yes, somebody had mentioned the name once, but whom? And in what connection? For the life of me I couldn't remember.

Luinil shrugged.

"I see - well, I should have known. Ada has never been very communicative when it came to personal matters."

"Ada?" I repeated, looking at him questioningly.

"Glorfindel." he added, a little impatient.

Glorfindel? ADA? I stared at the young Elf open mouthed, and within seconds, all the small pieces of the puzzle clicked in place. So this was Glorfindel's secret - he had had a son in his former life! But why was he here? And why had Fin never told me?

Luinil gave me another one of his disarming smiles, reminding me a lot of Fin, as I now realized, and flopped down on his back.

"Ai, so much to tell, so little time. Look, let's not beat around the bush, Erestor; you are not supposed to be here. It's not your time yet, just like it wasn't Ada's time when he decided to end his life and attacked that Balrog. That's why he was sent back, and that's why you must return to your life now, too."

"End his life?" I asked, by now completely confused.

Luinil sat up again, embracing his knees with his arms.

"For somebody so bright, you are a little slow on the uptake, Erestor. So here the story in brief: there was a war. I wanted to go, Nana refused. I pestered Ada for weeks till he finally gave in and took me along. He did so because he was proud, and enjoyed the thought of fighting by my side. Alas, I was slain, Ada blamed himself for my death, my mother left him and finally, he decided to end his misery by throwing himself at that Balrog. Very heroic - but has it never occurred to any of you how unlikely it was that ONE Balrog should have been able to kill the great Glorfindel if THREE Balrog's hadn't managed to finish off uncle Ecthelion who, with all due respect, was not half the warrior Ada is?"

My head was spinning. This was too much to take in, and I shaded my eyes with my hand, feeling a headache approaching. But Luinil wasn't finished yet.

"Erestor - you might think this place is paradise, and that you will find peace here, but you are wrong. It's boring. I must know - I've spent the last millennia here. I have seen Ada marry and divorce again, I've suffered my way through his affairs and marriages with simple minded dancers, calculating widows and bossy ladies, and I was sitting here hoping that maybe, one day, somebody would come along who could manage that his smile would reach his eyes again."

He reached out, and put his hand on mine.

"You, dear Erestor, managed this. You have nothing in common, you drive each other nuts, and you argue without a break, but it is obvious you love each other very much. And when you put a stop to his plans to paint the nursery pink, I knew it was safe for me to return."

I got up.

"Now wait. This is too much for me to understand, and by far the strangest dream I ever had. What do you mean by 'return'?"

Luinil shook his head again, his face carrying the expression of careful maintained patience parents show with a slow-learning Elfling.

"Erestor - you are a very intelligent Elf, so please think: right now, you are standing in the Gardens of Gondolin, which have been destroyed millennia ago. You are talking to the son of your beloved, who was slain in The Great Battle back in the first age. What logical conclusion can you come to?"

I could only shrug helplessly.

Luinil sighed, got up, and put his hands on my shoulders, capturing my eyes in an intense stare.

"You are not dreaming my dear Erestor."

No?

"You are dead."

* * *

Fin heard the wind howl outside, driving the heavy gushes of rain through the forest, but he felt neither the sting of the cold nor the hardness of the stone he knelt on. He only felt this overwhelming, all consuming pain in his heart. He had cradled Erestor's lifeless body to his chest for what seemed like an eternity, stroking the skin of his lover and feeling how it lost its warm touch, seeing the dark brown eyes who used to sparkle in anger or passion glaze over like mildew glazing a brambleberry, kissed the hollow cheeks, whispered Erestor's name over and over again, begging, pleading, crying, and he cried out to Mandos to call him, too, but there was no voice, no answer, only the constant howling of the wind.

* * *

"Dead?"

I shook my head. Odd dream. Time to wake up - definitely.

"Ai, dead. As in: Gone. Deceased. Passed away. Not alive. As in ..."

"Yes, thank you, I get the point."

Luinil smiled.

"No, I don't think so. See - you shouldn't be here. You should be back on Arda, cursing my father for the trouble he got you in, calling him all kind of names well-mannered Elves shouldn't know, and not here, talking to me.

Now don't get me wrong - I enjoy talking to you immensely, what with you being my future father and all, but now you must go back, Erestor. For if you don't, my Ada's heart will break, and my fea [soul] can't return to life, and, no disrespect meant, but another millennia in the company of Gil-galad mooning over Elrond, and I volunteer to live in Mordor."

Going back?

Back home.

Back to Fin.

Fin.

Luinil pressed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"So, off you go, Erestor, and I hope you will forgive me the mess in the library. Ada is sometimes a little slow on the uptake."

Once again, I was engulfed by darkness.

* * *

"Fin?"

Glorfindel didn't react when he heard the weak whisper of his name, blaming it on his imagination. He pressed the body of Erestor close to him, as if to protect him from the cold, though Erestor would never feel cold again, or pain, or pleasure, or Fin's love. He placed butterfly kisses on the dirty hair, his hands rubbing Erestor's arms, and the mighty Elven lord looked a lot like a wee Elfling clutching a rag doll.

"Can't ... breathe ... too tight ... you oaf ..."

Fin stared down at Erestor, who was looking up at him, hissing when another wave of pain tortured his body.

"You ... live." he said, maybe not the most poetic thing to say in a moment like this, but it was the best he could come up with.

"Of course I live, what did you think!" Erestor pressed through clenched teeth, "I fell asleep and had a very odd dream. But where have you been, I've been waiting for you!"

Fin swallowed the lump in his throat, and strived for a lighter tone.

"Ai, you most forgive me, darling, I was picking flowers and forgot the time."

"That is so you - here I am, trying under pains - horrible, horrible pains, I have to add - to bear the fruit of your loins, and you pick flowers!"

Fin kissed Erestor, and there had never been a sweeter kiss in the history of the Firstborn, that much is sure.

"My dear, as much as I would like to discuss my leisure activities with you now, I think we have more important tasks at hand."

With that, Fin gently lowered Erestor to the floor, rolled up his cloak and pushed it under his beloved's head.

"I promise you, the next time I will be here on time", Fin said, freeing Erestor of his clothes.

"The next time?!?" Erestor shrieked, hitting Fin's arm hard with his fist, then he moaned under a new wave of pain.

"There will be no next time, by the Valar!"

"What a pity," Fin sighed, "I was so hoping for twins."

* * *

The rain had ceased, the wind packed up his gear and returned to his chambers, and Fin was sitting in the cave, leaning against the wall. Erestor, who was wrapped in tightly in his blue cloak was cradled on his lap, exhausted and sleeping. In his arms, there was a tiny bundle, which moved and, at times, issued small, squeaking noises.

Fin looked down at his beloved, and at their newborn son, and bright blue eyes stared up at him under a shock of dark hair. Fin cried, but this time, it were tears of joy, and when a tiny hand emerged from what once had been Fin's favourite blue tunic, he offered his index finger, and the infant reached for the digit, holding it tight.

Outside, the morning sun was breaking its way through the clouds, and bright sunlight flooded the cave, chasing away the last remaining shadows of the night.

"Now look at this, Estorel - such a beautiful morning, and your other Ada is still asleep. Ai, but we shall let him sleep in for once, don't you agree?"

Estorel, who had only thanks to Erestor's vocal protests escaped the fate of being called Glorestor or Erfindel, made an affirmative cooing sound, and for one tiny moment, Fin thought the baby was winking at him.

But this was, of course, nothing but imagination.

* * *  
(Almost) The End


	7. Epilogue - The Fairytale of Glorfinstiltskin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...as told by Master Erestor to his newborn son Estorel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

"Now look, Fin: reading bed-time stories will not ruin your reputation, whatever that reputation may be. I have been up all of last night because Estorel was crying, and you could at least read a story to him now."

"I can't read stories. I am a warrior, not a lore master."

"Ha! Says the Elf whose Balrog gets bigger every time he repeats the tale of its slaying!"

"Reading bed-time stories is a female's job."

"I beg your pardon?!?"

"Uh - put the bottle away, darling, you could hurt the Elfling."

"The only childish individual that is getting hurt soon is you, Fin. Now take 'Nana Goose' and read Estorel his bedtime story or we will have a situation around here!"

"Look - can't you read a story and I listen, so I know how this is properly done?"

"If I read a story, will you read one tomorrow?"

"I promise."

"Can I trust you?"

"Do I have to answer this?"

"Better not. Take the baby, make sure you won't drop it, and I read to you the

FAIRY TALE OF GLORFINSTILTSKIN

Once upon an age, there was an advisor from Lothlórien who worked for a mighty and wise Elven lord. Let's call him Elrond and her Firinwë, that's easy to memorize.

Firinwë was very beautiful, but not the brightest candle on the chandelier, and she was also very, very lazy. While everybody else was guarding the border, hunting Wargs or writing poems, she sat by the window from dawn to dusk, combing her hair and being idle.

After a some time, the Elven lord got really tired of this attitude, and ordered her to dust his thimble collection at least three times a week, so she would contribute to the maintenance of the house.

Firinwë went to the Gil-galad Memorial Hall, as she had been ordered, alas ... when she stood in front of the glass cupboard with a feather duster, she spent all her time admiring her mirror image in the glass, and so, when Lord Elrond came to check on her in the evening, none of his thimbles were dusted, while Firinwë had tried five different lip colours and four new hairstyles in the meantime.

Needless to say, Lord Elrond was fuming.

He gave her The Terrifying Eyebrow, and boomed: "Firinwë! You bad, lazy maiden! You haven't dusted one single thimble!'

But Firinwë only yawned, and waved her hand, for the nail polish hadn't fully dried yet ('Blackberry Dew' by Mauburz of Rivendell).

The Lord was furious, and as a punishment, he locked her up in a small, dark room, where five pounds of frog feet were waiting in a basket to be pickled with vinegar and onions.

'Firinwë', he said, 'when I return to this chamber in the morrow, I expect to find the onions chopped and the frog feet pickled in these jars."

Then he closed the door and left Firinwë behind.

"Ai, Elbereth," Firinwë sighed, "how shall I ever pickle these frog feet without ruining my manicure!"

She looked first at the froggy bits and then at her nails, and started to cry.

"Boohoo, is there nobody who could help me?"

Firinwë cried and cried, knowing Lord Elrond would send her to Mirkwood to count Orcs for the next couple of centuries if she didn't finish the task.

"Oh," she sobbed, 'I would give anything for help!'

There was a bright flash in the room, and in front of Firinwë, an exceptionally handsome and charming Elf with long, black hair appeared. He said: "You can be helped, Firinwë! Do not despair! I shall pickle the frog feet for you, as I am a frog feet expert, but in return, you owe me a favour!"

Firinwë would have promised anything, so she nodded, and POOOOOOOOOOOOOF! all the frog feet were pickled (with onions), and neatly stored away in jars.

In the morning, Lord Elrond was most delighted to find the task done, and as he thought he had finally found a way to get Lady Firinwë used to regular work, he ordered her to pickle warg tongues this time.

Firinwë cried again, for if there was one thing more disgusting than frog feet, it was Warg tongues. But after a while, the handsome Elf appeared again, offering his help.

"I shall also pickle the Warg tongues for you, Lady Firinwë, but you owe me a favour, don't forget this!"

She nodded, and POOOOOOOOOOOOF, all the Warg tongues were pickled.

By Elbereth, Lord Elrond was in the best of moods, and as a reward, he gave the Lady a beautiful piece of jewellery, the so-called 'Evenstar' (52K, darn expensive, Cartieriel of Rivendell), a family heirloom.

"You may keep this gem if you also pickle these spider noses till tomorrow", he said, and left her.

Oh, how Firinwë wailed and cried - she wanted to keep the Evenstar very much, for it went most splendid with her new robe, but how should she manage to finish the task by the morrow?

You will not be surprised to hear that the exceptionally handsome Elf came to her rescue again.

"Lady Firinwë, I can help - but as a reward, I want this pretty cloak of yours, you know, the black velvet one with the dark green silk lining, for it would be just the right present for my begetting day, and much more tasteful than the red knitted cap with the bells I got from my beloved last year."

Though Firinwë had not the slightest intention to part from her designer cloak, she agreed, and POOOOOOOOOOF - the job was done.

"In the morrow, Lady Firinwë, I shall get your cloak, or, to make this agreement a little more interesting, you guess my name, and we are even."

With that, he disappeared, leaving a most enchanting scent of pine and sandalwood behind him.

That night, Firinwë slipped out of her room, and walked the halls of the Last Homely House in despair.

"Ai! Ai!" she lamented, wringing her hands, "how could I ever guess the name of this Elf?"

She headed for the kitchen to help herself on a glass of Miruvor, when she heard muffled voices. She sneaked up to the broom closet, and saw the mysterious Elf talking and laughing with the extremely attractive seneschal of the Lord of Rivendell.

"Ai, my love", the black-haired Elf said, "she will never guess that my name is Glorfinstiltskin! And now come here, my beloved, for I crave your sweet kisses very much!"

They kissed passionately, and Firinwë hastily retreated to her rooms when the seneschal's hand started to unbotton the tunic of the mysterious Elf, for this was a fairytale, and should be suitable for all ages, also wee Elflings.

When the morning broke, the dark-haired Elf appeared in the chamber.

"Ai, Lady Firinwë, time to hand over the cloak!" he smirked, and wriggled his eyebrows, which was not as scary as The Eyebrow by Lord Elrond, but impressive enough.

"Wait a second," she said, "if I guess your name, you shall leave me be, and I can keep the cloak."

He shrugged, still smiling.

"All right then. What is my name?"

"Glorfinstiltskin!!!" Firinwë called triumphantly, and grinned.

The Elf yawned.

"Eh - no, I'm sorry, that's wrong. The cloak, please."

"What? What? What?" Firinwë stuttered, "You said yourself that your name was Glorfinstiltskin! I heard it!"

"Me? Never."

"Yes, you did!"

"No I didn't."

"You did!"

"Didn't."

"Did did did!"

"Do you have witnesses?" he asked, and she looked puzzled.

"Witnesses? What would I need witnesses for?"

The Elf grabbed Firinwë around her middle and threw her out of the window, watching with great delight how she landed in the duck pond under the window.

He waved at her and admired the sight of the frog who sat on her head.

"This will teach you not to make moo-eyes at my husband!"

With that, he returned to the kitchen, a happy tune on his lips, where he sat down and sipped on a glass of Miruvor, and he and the exceptionally handsome blonde Elven Lord lived happily ever after."

"Somehow I am a bit worried about the direction the education of our son is taking, darling."

"I suggest you carry Estorel to his cradle, he has fallen asleep."

"Erestor?"

"Yes love?"

"I thought the red knitted cap with the bells looked cute on you."

* * *

_Definitely_ the end now.


End file.
